Cheese: An Experiment in Fate
by Lyle Brown
Summary: (Complete) Twenty lives are about to change forever, if they can survive each other and the night...
1. Prologue

Title: Cheese: An Experiment in Fate  
  
Author: Lyle Brown (Lyle MHD)  
  
Summary: Cheese. It's life. One is the loneliest slice that you'll ever eat; (if you dig cheese) two can be as bad as one; it's the loneliest slice since… what number was I on? Anyway, sit through this as twenty lives will change forever, if they survive. See, that's called a hook. It's supposed to pull you in. Hope it works.  
  
Time Period: Consider this an alternate universe for Buffy. I believe they call it Doppel-Buffy, but I'm usually wrong at these sorts of things. Don't mind me, I'll just sit by the punch bowl and try not to get it on the tux.  
  
Disclaimer: Hey Man, don't scuff the suede. I'm merely a small part (an addition really) of and to the large mouse that's biting off Joss's cheese. So, in essence, thanks for the cheddar Joss, I doubt my bite marks will be as noticeable as most…  
  
Rating: Censor, what censor? Hey, what's that on my shoe? Oh, an "R" I suppose. I'm prone to adding as much violence and vulgarity as possible, but as this is my first straightforward drama, don't expect much of that. Rated "Restricted" for adult situations such as drug use, harsh language, sexual innuendo and murder. Not to mention a large consumption of cow pus. By the way, Word's telling me that was a fragment sentence. I have a lot of those. Please don't tell me about them, it's how I dance. Let me dance.  
  
Feedback- I love it. If you want to give me a happy, just write to me. Flame me if you like, it gets kind of lonely here. Hell, correct my spelling and grammar if it tickles your yurt. Just don't tell me about my fragment sentences.  
  
Final note: Footnotes can be found at the end of this document. Whenever you see this (*#), that means a footnote was written about or pertaining to the sentence you've just read.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Here we go again…  
  
People say that there are many coincidences in life. I know differently. Cheese proves this. Made from one thing to another, it is consumed and becomes something else completely different. Cheese, like life, follows a chain. A destined set of occurrences, which coincide with other chains holding their own sets of occurrences. It is when these chains coincide, (interacting, linking if you will) that AKA: "coincidences" begin and end. Most confuse fate with these so-called coincidences. Is it coincidence that two dominatrix lovers captured and nearly killed a man? A man who was hired to kill someone by that body's own former love. And was it coincidence that this friend was involved in the murder of her roommate? Or what about the fact that the one who helped that friend kill her roommate was running away with a man who was the entire reason that the dominatrix couple were at that certain place and time to capture that hitman? Some would call this a coincidence, but not me. None with half a brain would ever accuse me of being blind to the obvious. I wear the cheese; it does not wear me. The story I am about to relate to you is fate, pure and simple. There is no running from it, there is no changing the outcome and there is no stopping time. The cheese cannot protect you, for your decisions have already been decided, your steps have already been mapped, and your life is on strings that are cut at a pre-determined destination. This… this is the true power of  
  
  
Cheese  
(The absence of coincidence, the truth of fate)  
Behold The Power  
  
  
JUNE 17th   
  
  
Buffy let out a sigh of relief. A small, thin smile traced along her mouth until it was an all-out giddies grin. It was over, it was all over, and her duties as the slayer were finished. She stood atop the hill and her hair blew through and along with the wind as it howled around her, but to Buffy it simply sounded like birdsong. The Hellmouth was closed for all eternity. Demons would still inhabit the earth, but they would either learn to be peaceful like others of their kind, or they would kill constantly, canceling each other. Considering this, Buffy lightly ran her finger over the newly acquired scar, which graced her forehead. She was painfully aware of another that ran along the length of her back, but they would both eventually go away, leaving her skin once again cream-colored and unblemished. The hilt of the blood-smeared battleaxe left the support of her small, graceful fingers and fell to the earth below. She no longer needed such an ugly thing, nor wanted one. Her life started today. Her life would start today, as soon as she left this god-forsaken hilltop. Buffy laughed and (liking the sound of it) began skipping down the east side of the hill towards Sunnydale, and Giles. And cheese. She was hungry.  
  
*****  
  
"Okay Betty yesyesyes?!?!?, -what's C'mon baby, one more one friggin' more!!! -our next and final number?"  
  
A white ball popped through the chute down to Betty's pearly white nails. It was a 15.  
  
"YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!"  
  
Xander fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face from joy, the absolute joy of it all. In his hand he held a crumpled white piece of paper, idly forgotten for the past six days until he decided to give it a chance.  
  
"All right, so in total that would be 26…5…16…16…15. This is our multi-million dollar jackpot you could be winning here, so you'd better be watching carefully folks. We've been going at this for ten weeks straight with no winner; the jackpot's at sixty-five million, and frankly I- uh, I've been getting a little antsy every time I walk pass the safe, cause, (light chuckling from Bob and tittering from Betty) ya' know, the damn thing's open so often. (Now turns into whole-hearted laughing from both) So once again, it's the 26, 5, 16, 16, and 15. That's The 26-5-16-16-15. Good luck and good night folks, this is Bob Boroughs with the lovely Betty Brendan telling you that if you have the winning number, (and check that slip hard to make sure you do) the buttons to push are 1-800-732-9265. That's 1-800-TH~"  
  
With a frizzle and a loud, distinctive pop, the power went out.  
  
Xander knew what he had to do, and that he had to do it now. He had to get to the payphone outside and to call the number without injuring himself from pure over-exhilaration. It was no small feat, but never let it be said that he wasn't up for a challenge.  
  
*****  
  
Beads of sweat were forming on and dripping from Giles' face by the second. It was really just the sauna, but he felt nervous enough that had he been in normal temperatures, he still would have smelled like a pig. Which, being of a highly sophisticated British nature, did not suit the man. He sat with his back against the wall, his glasses off and set in the adjoining room (what good would they have been in a sauna?) and a white towel tied lightly to his waist. He was slightly overweight though he liked to think he kept in suitable shape, and his hair was streaked with a growing amount of white-gray. With this appearance, had anyone else been in the hot room with them, they would have been jarred at the differences in looks between the Brit. and his largely obese companion. Marco was a man so large that when he'd arrived he had to squeeze through frame of the door just to get inside. His bulbous head stood out from the rest of his body; bald and layered in a cigar-colored tanned.  
  
Giles smiled politely and nodded as the gargantuan explained and laid out to him exactly what was to go down four days from this night. Not that he didn't already know. Not that he hadn't already been told thirty different times in thirty different dialects by thirty different overbearing druggies of varying degrees of authority. Well, they were thorough in their operations; he had to give them that. And while being bored and slightly whelmed by their tedious routines, Giles was downright giddy at the moment. He had finally worked up from the secretaries of stoolies to the big cheese himself, Marco Delphious (no relation to the infamous criminal mastermind Delphious Leonard). Giles considered it a serious achievement.  
  
Marco was jabbering his big, puckered fish-lips about the safety and security protocol Giles would have to go through once he arrived at the hotel. At the very mention of it small butterflies coursed through his stomach. It all felt so dangerous and… grand. Once inside the hotel he would have to go through several checkpoints and use a complex selection of security cards to get to his room, twenty-five stories up. And best of all, it would take place in the dead of night in the heart of Chicago. He would spend three hours there and wait for further instructions. That was as far as anyone would tell him. But from the sounds of it, Marco and his goons went to every extent to make their customers and providers satisfied. When he was asked in each of the conversations he'd had with the underworld's occupants, Giles had sometimes gently (but more often forcefully) declined any female entertainment. He had his own plans for that. If everything went along with his wishes, the nubile princess of his fantasies and dreams would be accompanying him. If only…  
  
"Oki Meester Geele's, we expe'ct to see you theere. My eccosiates end I sincerely hope yeou weel be jeening us on Freeday. End with yeou sheould be eh few se-se-cough so-lid, end uh, well-crefted brefcases. Yea?"  
  
Giles nodded and smiled, putting his hand forth. The big man rumbled deeply in laughter and shook it as he stood, his wide girth seeming to vibrate from the action.  
  
"Ged, ged, I'm gled teh heer da-cough that, so eef yeh'll excuse me, I heve eh p-plane teh cetch."  
  
Giles nodded and waved goodbye to Marco as he slowly shifted his weight towards the door and, after several attempts, disappeared beyond his line of vision, out of the warmth of the main sauna. Giles took his handkerchief from off the bench next to him and dabbed at his forehead. He smiled. This was it; this was the beginning of the end of Rupert Giles, the jobless former-librarian. He rested against the wall; contentment easily read on his face, and thought about the future.  
  
*****  
  
Ring…ring…ring…C'mon goddess, pick upring…/click/  
  
"H-hello?"  
  
"Hi, is this Darien? Darien Broody?"  
  
"Uh, oh yes, yes it is!"  
  
"Gosh, you sound so familiar to me! Is Dari- you know I hate to ask this, but is Darien your, um, "original" name?"  
  
"Ha-ha, yes, Darien is my real name. Always has been really."  
  
"Well, I mean, y-you sound kind of polite to, you know be a, uh, whispering contract killer."  
  
Laughter emanates from the other line.  
  
"Yes, and you sound kind of polite to be placing a contract on someone. That is what you're looking for, right?"  
  
She sighed and continued whispering.  
  
"Yes, yeah that's exactly what I'm looking for."  
  
"Really, there's no need to talk in such hushed tones, my line is protected."  
  
"Yes, but is mine?"  
  
"…………whispering right, yes well you can never be too safe, can you?"  
  
She shook her head in agreement, then grimaced at doing so.  
  
"So um, Darien, how many times have you, you know, performed?"  
  
"Oh numerous, yes many… a deep sigh actually, you'll be my first. In fact, I was surprised you got my number so fast."  
  
"Well, I-I have friends in, heh, very high places."  
  
"That's good, that's, that's just peachy. So, getting down to brass umm, and needles, uh, my fee is fifty thousand in, uh cash."  
  
"I have that much, I can pay that. I can get you half now and half when, um- oh shit!"  
  
She started to break into tears at the realization of what she was doing.  
  
"Are you there, are you still there?"  
  
"Yes… yes I'm here."  
  
"Do you… do you still want me to do this? It can weigh on a person heavily."  
  
"No! No I need you to do this, if this doesn't happen I don't think I can ever live securely and happily again."  
  
"Okay, okay… well something I should have asked at the beginning of this conversation, what's your name?"  
  
Think think think  
  
"Mandy. Moor…is. Mandy Morris."  
  
"Ah good, good. And who is the subject?"  
  
"…Daniel Osborne."  
  
A pause from the other side of the phone.  
  
"Okay, let's get down to it…"  
  
*****  
  
Angel took the sealer off the counter and strung up the last cardboard box. Well, that'd be that. He sighed, stood up and arched in pain from kneeling for so long. Pain…  
  
It felt great. Blood was making it way through his veins, his feet were warm and his heart was pumping. Fast.  
  
Brown cardboard boxes of varying sizes and degrees were strewn throughout the small oft-repaired office building. He still hadn't told Cordelia, who was off in San Francisco at the moment, and he desperately hoped she got the job. He didn't want to leave her with nothing. He didn't want to fire her, but how was he to know this would happen. Her cell phone had broken before she left and she hadn't called him from her hotel yet.   
  
The second she did though, he'd have the pleasure and pain of telling her they didn't have to do this anymore. That he had fulfilled his duties and that LA was no longer infested with demons that were looking only to kill and cause pain. Taking the cup of mocha from the table, he sipped and laughed as it burned his tongue. His duties as a savior were through, and as Wesley had said at the airport terminal, it was due time the three of them moved on.  
  
Which was exactly what he was planning on doing. His destination was Sunnydale, and Buffy. He would sweep her off her feet and take her away from the rest of the world; with every realization of his selfishness he would keep her for his own. And as Angel went down to get the trolley, he was planning every step.  
  
*****  
  
The bars in front of her were thick and numerous, and while she had no inclination to do so, she ran her fingers down the cold steel. Stroking it lovingly, she luxuriated and basked in the light of no responsibility. No one to look after or care for, nothing to protect, no rights to uphold. Shots rang out and sirens wailed as another bit the fruit of the chance for escape. He'd probably make it too. Over ten had successfully done so in the past three months. If Faith had felt like it she knew she could plan her own and pull it off, free once again to reign terror upon the evil and the good of the world. Though she usually felt that they were one and the same.  
  
A loud explosion rocked the foundations of the infirmary not twenty feet from her, and she grinned lazily from her position on the floor as several of her fellow inmates ran past, guns in their hands, heading for the door. A guard ran by shortly after and began firing bullets down the long hall towards the fleeing escapees, missing every time. She laughed at him and curled up pleasantly, closing her eyes. Maybe she'd count the stones lining the walls of her cell again, or again try and not succeed at counting all the stars beyond that of her barred window. It didn't matter. Life was good. Perhaps one day soon she'd be looking for a change, but for now, Faith was happy with where she was.  
  
*****  
  
Anya sighed as the power once again went out in the house. After his parents had moved out Xander had been handed the house, and every responsibility that came with it. Unfortunately, he had failed to keep up with even one. Rats were eating more of their food then they were, water for the bathtub was a precious rarity and the electricity was constantly turning on and off from unpaid debts and bills, just like now. But tonight Xander had finally come through for her. He'd won the sixty-five million, allowing her the chance she'd been waiting for. Him to somehow get rich.  
  
"So when will this happen?" She inquired.  
  
The voice on the other end of the line filled her in on the details. It told her that it would still need something from her to tell her how she wanted it done, just so everything went smoothly and without a snag.  
  
"No problem, I'll meet you at noon tomorrow. He'll be out receiving the first portion of the money then. You know where."  
  
She punched out the cell phone then and left for the kitchen. She seemed to remember a bit of cheese left in the fridge that the rats hadn't gotten to.  
  
*****  
  
"Okay, Mr. Finn. Everything seems to be in order here, you can start in two days."  
  
The walls of the office Riley sat in were covered in the usual papers and warrant slips found in a chief's office. Riley had gone through three different secretaries to get to this guy and was happy to finally be rewarded with the job of his dreams.  
  
"Really? Man that's great, thank you sir!"  
  
Law enforcement. The main job requiring talents of upholding and enforcing the laws of society. It wasn't the military in that you there weren't as many rules against your own person and not being a civilian in that you have more rights, and you can speed.  
  
"No problem, Finn."  
  
Not that Riley would speed without there being a serious need to… not often anyway.  
  
"And Riley?"  
  
He had been at the door; his back turned to the big man behind the desk, his mind set on going down to the main office and picking up the accessories he'd be needing. Almost a year of rigorous patrol training had taught him to always walk slower than normal when leaving a superior's room, just in case they wanted to add something.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
Almost there, almost.  
  
"Call me Chief or call me Williams, but don't use the words mister or sir when referring to me. Kay?"  
  
Riley grinned. "You got it, chief."  
  
*****  
  
"Okay Parker. Everything seems to be in order here, you can start in two days."  
  
"So… I'll just get a call from someone and…"  
  
"Yes, you'll be called to the scene of an accident to help out. Violence in Sunnydale is at an all-time high, and with the loss of so many workers we're glad to get any help we can. I personally would like to thank you for volunteering at a time like this, what with all the hysteria going around."  
  
"It's all right, I uh… I just want to do my part. Ya' know, help out other… people." He grinned at her.  
  
She smiled at him nervously. He knew she wasn't quite sure what he was getting at, but there was no way he was just going to give it away. He gave his regards and stalked out of the small musty office, the door slamming behind him with more force than he had intended and the blinds continuously bopping back and forth from the shock. He reached out a hand and pressed it against them to stop the racket.  
  
He hated it when things didn't go exactly as planned. Yet he hated when everything was so easy for him to grasp. Parker wanted danger, he wanted action, and he knew where to go and who to see to find what he wanted.  
  
*****  
  
Tears filled her eyes as she gasped and sobbed in sorrow. Her breaths came in short intervals and were shuddered away just as quickly as they came. Had the picture beneath her not been framed in glass and plated in gold edges, Joyce was certain it would have wrinkled and cracked long ago, as she had cried over it countless times since Buffy had left. Buffy…  
  
Her only child (*1), she loved Buffy more than anything else in the world. When she had learned of her daughter's destiny in life, she had found religion. She'd prayed every morning and every night for her daughter's protection, and almost broke into tears of joy every time she came home to her alive.  
  
But now her baby was gone. The light in her life had faded in the distance, leaving her cold and alone. With only the gallery as a point of interest in her life, Joyce had quickly fallen into despair. Money had rolled in, and she was well secured in her future. But what was the future worth when there was no one to share it with? She didn't know how to answer that, or perhaps she didn't want to.  
  
She'd begun to realize that there was no point to her existence. No fire in her life. Not even a spark of recognition came from anyone at work. She had no friends, no companions and no love. Joyce had summed it up to having nothing.  
  
She needed to get out of Sunnydale, she needed to escape, but she worried that a change of place wouldn't help, that her loneliness would follow her no matter where she went.  
  
That night, as with almost every other, Joyce cried herself to sleep.  
  
*****  
  
Thunder struck, winds howled, and the trees surrounding the lake billowed back and forth as the storm raged. Darkness enveloped the land, and blood rained, soiling the dirt. From above a light had halloed down upon a circle in to grass. A certain point in the geography of the land where a factory had once stood.  
  
From the earth beneath the spot, there came a deep rumbling. Something forceful was rising, though what could not be discerned until the ground cracked and the surface broke up, revealing the small, naked body of a child. A pale boy of about six, black hair cropped over his forehead and shiny, sharp fangs protruding from his mouth.  
  
The dark priest threw his cane to the ground and neared the sleeping monstrosity, pulling forth a blade six inches in length and caked in dried blood. The rain soaked over him, washing the blood off his weapon as he grew closer and closer to the boy. He smiled down as it breathed, it's stomach rising and falling, it's near-albino flesh goose-bumped from the severe chill of the wind.  
  
"I know not why I was to bring you about, but it was obvious the job was not done right before, Anointed One." The man in white spit the name out as though it was a curse just to say.  
  
"I can fix that." And with that, he lowered himself to the child; not quite expecting what came next.  
  
*****  
  
"Noooooohhhh……"  
  
The being of dark shook it's head in agony, in eternal pain, suffering for the sins it committed while adorning the flesh.  
  
It had (at one point in the elongated length of it's life) been called Darla. (*2) Sire to many, death to more; Darla had reaped a hell upon the earth that was equaled by few. With a charming smile and a sensuous body, Darla had led men and women to the dark abyss, for there had been no pity in her body. Every ounce of her being was made up of a need for cruelty, lust and, most of all blood. The thing that had sustained her monstrous vitality all of those years.  
  
Now she was nothing but a demon of pain. She knew and felt and lived only of the worst pain. There was no skin or blood to her, for all that was needed from a being in hell was it's essence. It's soul.  
  
But it is said that pain is the most liberating of all the feelings one may receive. It can destroy the weak, down the mighty and it can make those with courage weep. But it can also make them stronger. It can free the soul of any retribution that it may have gained; that it may have been weighed down with over the years of existence.  
  
And Darla knew pain. She had grown strong on it, and had eventually begun to feed off it. She now knew remorse; she now knew humility, and she now knew that the key to life was the strength to not give in when pain is a current resident.  
  
For no pain is eternal. Not even that of a God's…  
  
*****  
  
Sleep. Sleep perchance to dream. Perchance to escape the bloody pain the only a hangover may induce.  
  
Spike groaned and tried to roll over, but the tight confines of the sleek wooden coffin wouldn't allow it. He had been very happy when he had found the item when grave robbing, and had even paid Xander to help him get the beauty out of it's pit. While it was a bit of an annoyance for someone who slept so fitfully, it was many times better than the cold stone slab he had been forced to use. He'd always roll off the damn thing and end up either waking himself or regain consciousness the next night to find that cockroaches had decided to use him as a home base for a rest after scurrying around the floor.  
  
Unfortunately, the coffin had turned out to be pretty much soundproof. Most nights he couldn't hear anything beyond loud rapping on the wooden finish. Then there were other nights when he'd gotten so bleeding drunk that nothing, not even a gun shot in the same room could wake him up. Which was unfortunate, as that was exactly what was happening.  
  
The two grave robbers had been staking the place out (*3) when they had met up with a rival gang. An argument had resulted, then one of the men had pulled a gun and the shit went down. Bullets went this way, bodies flew that way and nothing was safe from the wrath of the men as they blew each other to pieces. When the last man was left standing, mortally wounded and dying fast, he had put his hand and then his body on the coffin for support.  
  
Not wanting to die of another man's bullet, he was raising the python to his temple when his shaky trigger finger had forced the gun to go off. Unprepared, the man screamed as the bullet hit one of the coffin slab's supports, blowing about an inch in length away. At it's now unstable position, the man's dead weight on the slab tipped it over, bringing the robber with. Body, slab and coffin fell to the ground, the man breaking his neck and dying instantly as Spike was rocked around inside his sleeping wood.  
  
Yet he still slept, if uncomfortably. But the sudden and abrupt shock that the hard hit brought was too much for the electronic chip inside his head, (which over the years had been growing weaker and weaker due to all the damage Spike had put his head through) and it snapped clean in half accordingly.  
  
*****  
  
"Well Cordelia, I must say, you're audition held a lot of power. A lot of oomph. There was nothing even remotely 'cheesy' about the way you pulled off Cherry's death scene."  
  
Cordelia giggled slightly, a wide grin on her face. "Thank you, thank you. I'm uh, I'm glad to know my performance was… cheese free."  
  
The two women laughed cordially and Bethany looked over her copy of Cordelia's resume once more before putting it back in the briefcase and snapping it shut.  
  
"Okay, you've got the part."  
  
Cordelia laughed, completely shocked. She put her hand to her mouth for a moment, then dropped it to her lap.  
  
"Really, are you serious?"  
  
"Mm-hmm, the part's yours. You start on Monday."  
  
"Oh wow… god, thank you so much!"  
  
Cordelia stood to shake the blonde's hand, but a frown crossed her face and she pulled back.  
  
"Wait, Monday?"  
  
"Yes… Cordelia, is there a problem?"  
  
"I, I thought we worked every weekend."  
  
"No-no, that's just for the workmen and extras. Our leads work every weeknight. Seven to eleven. Ha-ha, we call it the seven eleven shift."  
  
She was crushed. She knew there would be something she would miss. She knew that one way or another she wouldn't be able to have this part.  
  
"But I… I can't do that."  
  
"Cordelia, sweetheart it's four hours every weeknight. We're not asking you to do this all day long. You can still work or, whatever it is you-"  
  
"I can't do it. I must have read the wrong form. I though I'd be doing this on the weekends. My-my job is too important."  
  
"Are you sure? We're linked with three of the largest acting agencies in the world, Cordelia this could be a very big opportunity for you."  
  
She couldn't stay much longer. She didn't want Bethany to see her weakness.  
  
"I, I'm sorry. I just can't."  
  
Bethany pursed her lips and nodded, her blonde ponytail bobbing along behind her.  
  
"All right, it isn't a problem. It's been a pleasure seeing you at work Cordelia, and I'm sure you'll make it far in life."  
  
She took Cordelia's hand and shook it, but wouldn't let go. Their eyes locked.  
  
"That is, I'm sure you'll make it far if you figure out your priorities. To be frank, you've wasted my time. But you're good enough that I can forgive that. I don't know what it is you do for a living Cordy as your resume is less than informal on that situation, but it doesn't look like it's what you want to do with the rest of your life. You've got true talent, I just hope you know where your going with it."  
  
Cordelia nodded and Bethany let her go.  
  
As she walked out from the office, tears were filling her eyes. She doubted she'd ever figure out where she was going, but at least she knew it was worth it.  
  
*****  
  
VVVVVVvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm…………………  
  
All that Wesley Wyndam-Pryce could hear were the landing of the large planes not twenty-five yards from him, screeching down on the pavement in an irritating howl.  
  
He walked along the side of the large gray building that held all the soon-to-be passengers, hopeful to leave India, as well as all the businessman and their like, no doubt glad to be back in such a surprisingly thriving country. Though Wesley was not very fond of Hydera'ba'd National Airport. To his left Wesley watched as the Boeing making the most noise finally left the ground, wheels slowly raising into the compartments above. The new glasses he had purchased were plain spiffy when it came to pinpointing the smallest details.  
  
A sudden noise in front of him made the Brit leap behind a large stack of cardboard boxes on a forklift. After hearing footsteps shuffling off and not coming in his general direction, Wesley peeked around the side to see an old man, most likely in his seventies, garbed up in a blue workman's suit. In his left hand a set of keys jingled. He seemed to be walking west, towards the other half of the airport.  
  
"What the hell are you doin'?"  
  
Wesley gasped and looked up, shocked to see a black man (wearing a business suit) at the forklift's control board. Wesley stuttered, his mind grasping for anything that might explain his being out in a restricted area to civilians.  
  
The black man laughed heartily and jumped down, slapping the other man on the shoulder congenially. On his look the bigger man noticed the old workman walking towards the other terminals. Then he looked back at Wesley, a big smile on his face.  
  
"Relax, man. That guy's too far away to hear anything. As for you bein' out here, you obviously are not a mover. In fact, I doubt you have any reason within the law for being down here in the first place, right?"  
  
By his good-natured tone, Wesley took a chance.  
  
"I'm afraid not, you're right."  
  
"Ha-ha, put it there."  
  
A hand shot forward, but Wesley was surprised at the gentleness of the handshake. Off-putting, he guessed. Must make people think he wasn't as dangerous as he was.  
  
"Darien Broody. Your masquerade. You must be Wesley."  
  
"Ah, Darien. Glad to meet you, and, uh thanks for the backing. Good to see there are some set foundations to this business."  
  
"You got it man. Listen, we shouldn't even be in these close quarters, but I just wanted to meet you in person before you got all famous."  
  
"Oh, you really think that's possible?"  
  
"Absolutely, man. I've seen you're test results. It's a good thing you went to Brohiemer to begin with. You've got some real talent man, I hope to work with you once you, ya' know, home in on the practice."  
  
Wesley smiled, wondering what exactly he had done to get Brohiemer to say such good things about him.  
  
"Okay man, well I got to get the hell outta here before somebody lays a scope on my ass, but I left you a real nice present in a trash bin by terminal eighteen. Just what Santa would never give you, brother."  
  
Wesley nodded, and the two men shook hands once more before parting. Over his shoulder Darien called out his name. He turned.  
  
"One more thing, Wes. Keep your eyes on the watch for the NSA, man. This place is crawling with them, what with Delphious hiding out here and all."  
  
Wesley nodded again.  
  
"Yes, I heard from about the from Morrison. Unfair disadvantage, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Darien laughed. "You got that right. I got three meetings I had to cancel just today. Have a good one Wes, I'll call you after you get the first."  
  
Wesley laughed and nodded, feeling like an idiot for doing that so much. He might as well be one of those ornaments on the rear-view mirrors of cars, his head bobbing up and down constantly.  
  
Once Darien had disappeared into the building (using the airstrip boarding room Wesley had) he started heading towards the northern quarter of the airport where terminal eighteen was located. He couldn't help but consider himself lucky to be getting such a great chance at beginning a career he had only dreamed of.  
  
He'd been walking for about thirty seconds before realizing that the ringing in his ear wasn't just from being near an airstrip for so long, but that his cell phone was ringing from within his gray Armani. With a flick of his wrist it was out.  
  
"H-hello?"  
  
*****  
  
The roses were in full bloom in Sunnydale. As much as she enjoyed the darker things in life, Olivia loved flowers. They were so gentle and fragile, and yet they held such exuberance and beauty, such an aura about them that could be matched by nothing else. They were in essence, the perfect pictures of innocence.  
  
Olivia had a hard time finding innocent things in her life, or a want for innocence. That's probably why she had grown so close to Rupert Giles since she'd met him. He held a power of darkness over her that surprised her. He was so nice, and so kind to her, but she knew that inside of him there raged a beast that ached to once again swipe it's claws and howl at the moon.   
  
Though the only time this creature ever showed itself was in bed. That's when Rupert was such a force to be reckoned with. Every time he took her, any sense of delicacy ceased and there arrived the demon of his soul, raging and pounding against her. And the true problem (or not) was that she not only enjoyed it, but that she couldn't get enough of it.  
  
Until recently. Rupert had always been like a stevedore, he'd always been rough on her, but for the past two nights he'd been… different. Not quite the monster she'd grown accustomed to, and frankly, she was wanting it more, wanting it harder, and wanting it to hurt, not the other way around. And Giles wasn't performing up to par.  
  
Was he growing tired of the same old positions, or was he getting bored of the setting? Olivia didn't know, but that's what she'd narrowed it down to in the past forty-eight hours.  
  
"Do you like these?"  
  
"Yes Rupert, they're quite beautiful actually. Much nicer than the daisies."  
  
And now, to top it off, Rupert had brought her here. A park.  
  
Olivia was confused, and was beginning to get more than a little uncomfortable. Giles was looking for something to change, and she wasn't sure what it was yet. But she'd be damned if she didn't find out soon. She loved flowers and always would, but at the end of the day and the beginning of the night it wasn't the petals of a rose she'd be paying attention to. She'd be much more interested in the pain of which the thorns gave to her. Flowers she could love, but it was the thorns she needed.  
  
*****  
  
"Are you crazy man?!?"  
  
"Hey, watch out!"  
  
"Get off the road you idiot!"  
  
"You're on the wrong-"  
  
Ethan laughed at all the responses of the other drivers in the cars right of him, yelling at him to get back in the right lane of the road. Meanwhile, cars in his own lane drove towards him honking their horns in rage to this aberration of normality.  
  
God how he loved America! A place where committing murder and getting away with it was as easy as making a pastry, or painting a picture. All it took was some careful planting and near-flawless consummation. Ethan didn't always enjoy killing, but he was good at it. And whenever in Sunnydale Ethan was oh so tempted to take out someone just to shake off the vibes he collected over time. All the pent-up anger he had, all the cowardice he felt, all of the shit he put up with from having to act like a decent human being, all of that went away when he just popped someone. At least for a while.  
  
Sirens began to wail behind him, breaking his concentration. He laughed again, realizing that this was his chance. He could get rid of the days angst right here and now.  
  
He waited patiently for his pursuer in black and white to get up close enough. Then waited until he had positioned himself directly into the path of an oncoming vehicle and began to speed up. He could her the cop's voice over the P.A. system telling him to pull over immediately, but they both knew he'd do no such thing.  
  
50…55…60!  
  
He swerved to the right now, barreling into the course of another car, hoping the cop behind him hadn't caught on and would flatten himself against the first on-comer. No such luck, the guy was good. He'd have to go for something else.  
  
As he pressed against the gas pedal and entered the median he considered if he'd be able to pull off what he was planning on doing while in the horror that was Sunnydale, California. Would Giles really go for it? He had to be upbeat about it; he had to be sure of himself. Once he got the roller pig off his tail he'd pop Anthony Robbins back into the cassette player.  
  
Now in his own lane, Ethan checked the rear-view mirror to see that sure enough, he was still being followed. It was beginning to annoy him. As long as Buffy Summers didn't get in his way (or he in hers for that matter) he should be all right in the matters of safety.  
  
He banked around two more cars that were going about thirty miles westward and waited another five seconds before tightening his seatbelt and slamming onto the breaks. He hit the patrol car with enough force that it's rear wheels lifted up in the air and a loud explosion erupted from within it's hood.  
  
Once they both rolled to a halt Ethan quickly if cautiously unhooked himself from the seatbelt and got out of the Buick. Checking the windshield of the other car, he couldn't tell if they were dead or not. Reaching back into his car he opened the glove box and pulled out his magnum. Making sure it was loaded, he snapped it back in, cocked it, and walked slowly towards the opposing party's vehicle.  
  
Unconscious. Still breathing, not dead. Either of them. Blood covered the shotgun cops forehead, but it was only a light scratch. He relieved them of their guns and went back to his own car. Opening the glove box again, Ethan pulled out the Anthony Robbins box set and stood by the side of the road, waiting for a car that suited him passed.  
  
He finally decided to stand in front of the Porsche 911, raising the gun and smiling as he did. They weren't lying when the makers said it went for sixty to zero in three seconds flat. After the two passengers were hustled out of the vehicle, Ethan transferred his possessions from one car to the other and shut the door, driving off. Destination: Sunnydale. He had a few friends to meet. Some were expecting him, while others… weren't. And to be truthful, knowing Sunnydale, Ethan Rayne didn't know what to expect himself.  
  
*****  
  
"Would you like a pillow?"  
  
"No, but thanks."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Well how about a blanket, we have an extra amount of those."  
  
He smirks. Red mink, spinning the jack.  
  
"That's alright. I'm sorry not to take from the surplus of comforters, but… I'm okay."  
  
She smiles down at him.  
  
"Okay. Enjoy the flight then, Mr.…?"  
  
"Thanks, I will Mrs."  
  
Beat.  
  
"Oh no, I'm just a miss. No ring on my finger."  
  
Gentle laughter from the girl at her remark.  
  
"Mm."  
  
Master of disinterest he always is. Actually quite intrigued, but never seemingly so.  
  
She nods her head and slowly walks away. Lonely, and that's the way she'd stay. At least for now. And she won't find comfort in him. No one will, until he allows an opening to arise in his closed book of a personality. Though that's not to say he doesn't make an interesting cover…  
  
"Alright ladies and gentleman, we're flying at an altitude of about thirty-eight thousand feet, and we'll be landing in Madras in approximately half an hour. We here at Brenstan International hope that you enjoy the remainder of your flight. Thank you."  
  
The voice clicks back off, and he is once again alone with his thoughts.  
  
*****  
  
"I w-want to thank you for coming, Ethan. You really d-don't know how much it means to me."  
  
"It's alright, really. How are you feeling, Terry?"  
  
She smiled. He always called her that.  
  
"I'm good… h-how has the ride west been so far? Not to troublesome, I hope."  
  
"Ah, I'm alive. But let's not get tied up in me. What did you want to talk about?"  
  
Terra sighed. There was so much she wanted to relate to him in so little time. All that had occurred since they had last spoken in January became a jumble to her, muddling up her thoughts. She hadn't and wouldn't tell him about Willow, though, since he already had told Terra of his previous run-ins with her that were… less than hospitable. She knew Ethan wasn't the best of men, but she loved him like a father nonetheless.  
  
She decided to cut to the chase. "Ethan, I need two million."  
  
"Terry, really. I can wire you forty thousand if you absolutely need it, but two million. That's more than excessive."  
  
"I'll do anything Ethan… please…"  
  
"Look, I can't talk right now, I just got to the hotel and I'm very tired. How about I meet you on the nineteenth, at Willy's."  
  
"Umm, Willy's g-g-gone c-clean, that's n-no good. J-just pick me up th-there and we can eat out."  
  
"Alright, that sounds good. I'll see you then."  
  
"Okay, b-bye Ethan."  
  
"And Terry? Gargle some of those boiling pebbles, your stutter's acting up again."  
  
She giggled at that.  
  
"O-okay. Love you, bye." She hung up then, lightly biting her lip. She needed the money, she knew Ethan had it and she had a plan as to how she'd get it. She just hoped Willow would hold out that long…  
  
*****  
  
Lawrence (*4) sat in the dim gray light that was Purgatory, wondering. His essence soared from left to right in a constant state of thought. Despair and remorse were the two things he felt most, but he also felt love for the world, and every so often he felt forgiveness, which lead to peace, which then lead accordingly to the promise of the eventual eternity of such. Though that long farewell was a far cry from close, or even soon. Unless of course, he were for some reason, to be released. Then he promised himself he would only be for and teach with the light, instead of the darkness. He hoped for one or the other, release or eternal peace, and felt a certain tug that one or the other would eventually reach him, though when and which he did not know. He had no idea that release would come so soon.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Well, that's all for now. Hope you enjoyed it, I know I enjoyed writing it. It's a strange one, not quite like any of the others I'm currently working on, but I like it nonetheless. Now, for the footnotes.  
  
(*1)- For our immediate purposes, Dawn does not exist.  
  
(*2)- As I said previously, this is an alternate universe. Darla was never risen by Lindsey.  
  
(*3)- Can't remember why I made this. Wait… nope; don't remember. Spike lives in the crypt, a bunch of grave robbers had a big shoot out. That's that.  
  
(*4)- Lawrence was A.D.A.M.  



	2. Body

A note to the reader: All right, this is the second part of Cheese. There will be four parts working out something like this.   
__________________________________________________________________________________________   
June 17: Intro; Part 1 (you should've already read this) 

June 19: Body; Part 2 (what you're about to read; this is also the longest part) 

June 19-20: Climax; Part 3 (when "it" happens) 

June 20, 22: Epilogue; Part 4 (Faith sings, don't miss it!)   
__________________________________________________________________________________________   
Just to let you peoples know. Now, onward to the cheese!   
  
  


Title: Cheese: An Experiment in Fate

Author: Lyle Brown (LyleMHD)

Summary: Cheese. It's life. It's not what you thought, when you first began it, you got what you ordered; now you can hardly stand it. No, it's not going to stop till you throw up. Anyway, You've sat through the first part, goo for you. Now here's my biggest part in the story. I kept it to a fifty-page limit and came out with fifty-five, go figure. Note that while no one is a main character, some do have bigger parts than others. Sorry.

Time Period: Alternate Universe, few spoilers (4th season)   
Disclaimer: I own nothing. What I'm doing with these characters is very, very wrong, I know. Sorry again.   
Rating: Hard R. Sex, murder, drugs. It's a story for the whole family!

Feedback- I love it. If you want to give me a happy, just write to me. Flame me if you like, it gets kind of lonely here. Hell, correct my spelling and grammar if it tickles your yurt. Just don't tell me about my fragment sentences.   


Cheese: An Experiment in Fate   
By Lyle Brown   
Part 2: Body

Here we go again…   


_June 19th_   


"Oh, oh god yes! Oh, fuck!" 

Bounce, bounce, bounce. It would have been comical had the only occupants to the room not been so clouded in lust. 

"Oh, oh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I-" 

Buffy let a low moan as she peaked, riding Giles with as much force as she could muster. He held her waist in his hands and was trying to keep up, but the girl was like a firecracker, bursting with energy and unattainable during the moments of the highest reaches. Giles gasped as he felt her body shudder and she ran her fingers down his chest, grazing them through his small graying hairs. 

Once she came down from the third climax, Buffy lifted her hooded eyes a bit to survey her prey, his own eyes also only slightly open. They were both atop one of the large heavily wrapped bags of cocaine that had finally come into Giles care via a very reluctant contact. Having to deliver over twenty million dollars worth of illegal paraphernalia (even in the dead of night) wasn't the most comforting of tasks to undertake, and because of this Giles had to spend most of the remainder of his twenty-five thousand dollar bond just keeping the guy happy. Ripper would have never paid the extra amount of money; he would have used… other methods. But Giles had shaken those thoughts away. Ripper barely existed now, hidden in the dark recesses of his psyche, where Giles was more than happy to keep him. 

Buffy started to slowly rock back and forth against him though neither had enough energy to go for the gold again. Not yet anyway. 

"Why didn't you tell me before how you felt? This could've happened so much sooner." 

"Not really. You were still in high school, and while I'm many things Buffy, I'm not a pedophile." 

"Giles, you didn't even think of it?" 

He blinked and looked away. "Well I never said that." 

She grinned and leaned down over him, parting her lips. He groaned and grasped the small of her back as they kissed, passion stirring between them. 

When they broke she smiled down at him. "I've been out of high school for a while now." 

He nodded. "I never really thought you uh, were into necrophilia." 

She laughed and resumed rocking. "If that category for some reason includes you, count me in." 

He smiled back at her. "I hope you mean that." 

She frowned playfully. "You want me to screw other dead people?" 

"I want you to come with me." 

Any facial expressions left her face then save for that of shock and surprise. It made sense that he would want her to join him on his trip, but it had never really occurred to Buffy. 

"Y-you really want me to come with you? To Chicago?" 

He nodded again. 

"What about Olivia?" 

Giles sighed as Buffy disengaged herself and curled up next to him, making a half-spoon by resting her body against his side. He put one arm around her, pulling her close to him while rubbing the other over his forehead, thinking of his situation with Olivia. 

"Olivia and I have… grown apar-" 

"Giles, I'm not five. Just give it to me straight." 

"…She wants things I have very little interest in giving her… painful things." 

Buffy smirked. "Well everybody needs a good spanking every once in a while." 

"Spankings are fine Buffy, spanking is on my check list as… as long as it's just the occasional kink. But Olivia doesn't want spanking, she wants whips and knives and cattle prods and god only knows what else, and she wants it constantly…" 

He looked over to find Buffy staring at him with wide eyes. 

"What?" 

She shook her head and rested it against his chest, glad for his warmth. 

"Is that where all the scars on your back came from?" 

"A few of them. Others were from… others." 

She laughed in spite of herself. She wasn't surprised that he'd have secrets he still didn't want to divulge to her, and she was all right with that. It was still too early in this new type of relationship to know everything about each other. 

"So, will you?" 

"…What?" 

"You know." 

"…What about Riley, and Angel?" 

He sighed again, this time out of frustration. Withdrawing his arm from around her he placed them under his head and stared up at the ceiling fan silently whirring above; a stern look on his face. 

"What about them? …Listen, Buffy this is; this is your life and I'm not going to interfere or get in the way of it. Whatever you feel is right for you… that's what you should do." 

"Giles I-" 

"But I'm not going to wait. I can't Buffy, there isn't much time left." 

"Giles, I don't know what I'm going to do." She placed both hands on his chest and nuzzled his neck. "Believe me, I'm completely aware that you can keep me happy for a long, long time, I just have a lot of options at the moment and (she kissed his jugular) as a result (a kiss on the cheek) there's too many choices in too little time." And she lowered her lips to his, breathing her warm air and licking them. 

Giles gave in and placed his hand on the back of her head, forcing her lips to his. As they kissed, Buffy rolled back on top of him, running her hands down his side. He broke the embrace sharply, startling her. She frowned and looked at him questioningly as a serious expression crossed his face. 

"Buffy, all your responsibilities to the world are through. You can do and be who you want, and you can… "do" and be _with_ who you want. You have an entire lifetime ahead of you, and while I plan on living for a good long while, I can't promise you it would work between us. I can't promise you that ten or even five years from now I'll still be attractive to you. I can on the other hand, promise you that while your with me, I'll make you as happy as is humanly possible." 

She smiled and kissed him lightly, and this time he didn't pull away. The kiss deepened and they clung to each other passionately, the Slayer and her Watcher, connected. After a long moment they broke apart, both breathing deeply. 

Giles looked into her eyes. "You don't have to have an answer now. I'm leaving for Chicago on route fifty-one at- you do know where that is, don't you?" 

She nodded. "Northwest and Maple." 

"Right. I'll be on the bus to the airport at midnight tonight. My…"baggage" will be traveling separately. Flight two-thirty one, terminal seven. I won't be angry if I don't see you there. But I have an extra ticket that's in the left pocket of my vest, and it wasn't purchased by accident… Buffy, I'm not currently as much a part of your life as I'd like to be, but if you're there, if you come with me, I'll do everything I can to make you happy." 

She smiled, a tear in her eye, and kissed him again. "What time is it?" 

"I'm not sure, I don't remember where you threw my watch. It's probably about nine am." 

She arched her eyebrows. "You up for one more?" 

He smiled and rolled them off the cocaine bag, taking her by surprise. Now with her naked flesh being contrasted between the cold floor and the extreme heat Giles was putting off, Buffy gasped. 

Unfortunately, just as Giles was about to take her, a cellular phone rang from beside them. They both looked toward Giles' pants, which was where the sound was emanating from. Before Giles could protest she reached into the pocket the phone was in and pressed Talk, all with the amazing grace and agility that came with her former occupation. 

"Hello?" 

* * * * * 

"Buffy? What the hell are you doing with Giles' phone? You know what, I'd rather talk to you!" 

Cordelia realized that she was practically yelling into the phone, but she was so angry with Angel at the moment that she didn't care. The one job, the one opportunity in her life, and she'd given it up for what? Nothing! And worst of all, he hadn't even had the guts to tell her in person. The son of a bitch had left her a note. 

"Cordy? Listen, is this, like _really_ important cause if-" 

"Do you know what you're god damn boyfriend is doing to me?" 

"Uh, uh- Hang on!" Muffled speech came from the other and of the line and Cordelia realized that she must be covering the receiver, but bits and pieces still came through. 

"It..Cord....I don.....sounds pretty ups.." 

"You're damn right I'm upset!" Cordelia screamed into her wireless. 

Buffy went back on the line. "Uh, okay Cordelia, what did Riley do?" 

"Riley? No, the other dip-shit you were dating!" 

"Ah. Okay, I didn't realize you knew Parker. And we weren't really dat-" 

"Who? Jesus Buffy, how many guys are you boffing up there? Next thing I know you'll probably be shacking up with Xander or-or Giles!" (She was too angry to hear the gasp) "I'm talking about Angel!" 

"O-okay, so I'm hoping you'll calm down a bit here. What's Angel doing to you?" 

"Ruining my life, completely! I give up the greatest opportunity in my career thinking that he's still mister cursed soul, only to get back to Los An to find a note, a fucking note on the office door telling ME, ME THAT I'M OUT OF A FUCKING JOB!" 

A family in the ugly station wagon next to her began rolling their windows up and changing lanes as she forced her red convertible over fifty. 

"God…Cordelia I'm sorry. I mean I can relate to Angel not saying go-" 

"NO, No you can't relate! I'll admit I may not know how good he is in bed, but over the years I've gotten to know him a hell of a lot better than you ever did, and it hurts me so fucking much more cause the entire reason he did it was for you!" 

"Did- did what?" 

"Quit his job! And Wesley, Wesley disappeared, gone off to Bangladesh or god knows where and I'm alone, I'm alone Buffy and all just because you're god damn boyfriend wakes up one morning with a so-" 

"Okay, Cordelia, stop it!" 

Cordy shut up; her tear-stained face beat red from yelling so much and her voice hoarse. She leaned into her seat and kept her eyes focused on the road, dropping her speed a little to match those around her. 

"Now, where are you?" 

"Fresno." 

A pause from the other line. "That isn't LA." 

Cordelia shook her head, feeling stupid for doing so. "No, it's not. _sniffle_> I'm coming home." 

"Okay, well I don't know what happened to Angel to make him do such a thing, but believe me, it would take a whole lot to even make me consider getting back together with him. It would take certain circumstances that he can't control coming into place, and Cordelia?" 

"What?" 

"Those things aren't going to happen. Not in time anyway. He's all yours." 

Cordelia snapped the phone shut, cutting off the connection. A fresh set of tears was coming and she didn't want to go back into hysterics while talking to Buffy. She didn't know exactly what she wanted, or even if Angel came into play, but she knew he was the one to blame, and for what he did she could never forgive him. Unless… 

* * * * * 

"Now, where were we?" 

Buffy smiled. "I think was about…heeere, and you were right about-" 

From across the room Giles' watch began to beep. 

"Dammit!" He laid his head on her breast in frustration for a moment before standing, pulling Buffy to her feet as well. 

"I have to go, I have about an hour to move the coke to Barley's garage." 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him lightly. 

"What happens then?" 

"Do you really want to know?" 

"Yeah. It's all kind of exciting." 

"A friend of mine who knows someone at airport security is going make sure it gets wrapped up, disguised and put on the plane. It's a rather large amount so another half's going on a second flight." 

As he spoke they began to dress each other. Giles found Buffy's panties and slipped them back on her along with her pants, and she did the same with his boxers and slacks. He explained more of the operation to her and she seemed genuinely interested as he slipped the tank top over her head and around her breasts. They were just finishing up when a phone rang. This time it was Buffy's. She checked the ID to see that it was Riley. 

"Listen, I have some things to take care of as well. I'll-" 

Giles pressed his finger to her lips, which Buffy noticed as being totally uncharacteristic of him. Of course, so was smuggling twenty million dollars worth of cocaine out of Sunnydale. 

"Don't tell me." 

They approached the door to his home and he opened it. She kissed his finger, wetting it with her tongue. He sighed and leaned in to kiss her mouth. She grinned and met him, opening her mouth to duel tongues with him momentarily as she stepped out of the door. They separated breathlessly, Giles reaching up to caress her cheek. 

"Midnight." 

She nodded. "Northwest and Maple." 

He smiled and closed the door to ready himself. She stepped off the porch and yelped in shock to realize that her phone was still ringing. She opened the flap, hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible. 

* * * * * 

Cruisin'. That's what he was doing. Just cruisin' along the streets of Sunnydale. With the violence in Sunnydale dying down (due, no less, to his own girlfriend) Riley figured his job wouldn't be that difficult. Catch a couple criminals, break up bar fights, bust some drug deals and that would be his day. He could live like this, and he'd finally be able to support Buffy. Now that she didn't have to work anymore he could work for her. She'd be able to stay at home or go shopping; doing things normal girls did. Hell, they could raise a family. He liked that idea. 

The radio in his dashboard crackled to life as he stopped at the intersection. 

"Car Forty-five, state your position; over." 

God, he loved this job! He couldn't help but swell with pride as he took the transmitter in his hands and tried to calm himself down so that he'd sound at least a little authoritative. 

"Uh, yeah base, that'd be Twenty-five and Elm. Over." 

"Copy Forty-five; there's a break-in in progress at Mighal's Wiccan Shoppe on Twenty-six. Respond, over." 

"10-4 base, I'm on my way. Over and out." Riley put the transmitter back in its cradle and flicked on the sirens with his right hand while steering with his left. _Jerries, they're called jerries, he chided himself. Get with it man._

* 

When Tara heard the alarm sound she knew she wouldn't have much time, but she'd only been in there a full sixty seconds before the sirens started wailing from somewhere in the distance. It being a town holiday, most of the stores were closed, and she had to do this today. She regretted her lousy foresight and therefore having to break in, but she hadn't done any damage that would cost anything more than ten dollars. She'd been able to find half of what she was looking for and her nervousness was taking it's toll on her appearance; she knew she'd have to get out of the little shoppe soon and apply the dust. 

Luckily, the other items on her list could easily be with Ethan. And even if he didn't have them, she could acquire them from one of the two other shops around (even if that meant setting off more alarms). Suddenly a screeching noise assaulted her ears, most likely coming from some point outside of the building. She stopped her hurried breathing to listen as a door slammed and footsteps approached. 

She quickly and efficiently grabbed a few of the bags from the counter the register sat at and (throwing in the amount of money she'd caused in damage and from the items she'd taken) with a few tight movements she was ready to get out. Too late, someone was outside the door, inspecting the lock she'd clumsily broken. She breathed in deeply, unable to discern whom it was. Hiding between the herb and enchantment aisles she whispered a breaking spell at the bulb hanging down from the socket above. It burst in a moment of extreme brightness, then pieces of glass fell down and sparks died out, leaving her and the cop (his keys jingling as he ran towards the light) alone in the darkness as she lost all control of the mask she wore. 

* 

Riley hadn't the slightest idea what the hell was going on, but he did know that he wasn't in the building alone. Someone was in there with him, moving around and whispering odd things under their breath. He shined the ray of his flashlight over various items in the building, but finding nothing he moved on to the next set of aisles. 

A crash to his right made him draw his gun, and immediately he realized what he wasn't doing right. Keeping gun and flashlight trained at certain spots as he tried to home in on the intruder, he called out to them through the darkness. 

"Alright, come on out. You're under arrest for breaking and entering… C'mon, I can hear you breathing." 

The breathing he had heard was becoming more and more of a raspy sound, kind of like the person was trying to breathe with mucus or blood in there mouth. 

"I… I know you." The voice rasped at him from the dark, somewhere in front of him. He thought he saw a shadow move between two aisles of books and decided to keep the creep talking. 

"Sure you do… Come over here and we can talk." 

"Riley, it's me." Riley couldn't tell if the voice was male or female, but by now he knew that whatever it was couldn't be the slightest bit human. 

"Okay, that's great. Who's me? …And how the hell do you know my name?" 

"Riley, you'll just have to trust me, please! Let me go, I'm your friend!" 

Riley shook his head almost laughing at what he was hearing. He understood now. He'd learned of mind-reading demons while in The Initiative, but he hadn't ever come face to face with one. Not that he'd known of, until now. 

"Right… Well I'll have you know Gedankenleser, that I don't associate myself with criminals of any kind! Now get out here!" 

"Riley, please, don't make me-" 

The perpetrator was starting to sound like Mercedes McAinbridge in The Exorcist. He did laugh at this momentarily before getting back to what he was doing. By now he'd gotten the demon pressed up against the corner and could tell by the shadow that it was trying to move but wasn't able to. It was also staring straight at him through the darkness; it's eyes glowed an admittedly beautiful golden-yellow. 

"Stay right there!" 

Raising flashlight and gun to the form he almost screamed as well as firing off a bullet by mistake, tearing into a shelf of magazines. It was… changing. Shapely tentacles matching the color of it's eyes were waving in the air, clothes were ripping and its face was slowly reshaping itself, growing like the rest of it's body. That face was Tara's. 

"Riley… please help me." 

He was too shocked to move, or even to say anything. She was …she was… NO! No, she was a demon, plain and simple. One he had never seen, she must have had her own category, and while her face didn't show anything menacing she rose over four meters. Her feet dangled in the air as her tentacles supported her and her clothes had now disintegrated completely off her body like water, revealing all of her to him. 

There was no hair on her body except for that which adorned her head, traveling down in golden waves to her breasts, and… one other place Riley had a hard time tearing his eyes away from. The rest of her practically shined in the light as if she were rubber. 

The only thing Riley could compare her to be was Medusa, the ancient that had terrorized the world with her beauty in stark contrast to the hair of snakes she had. But all of Tara's appendages came from her back, making it look as though she was floating as she slowly made her way towards him. Her face was now smooth and sleek like the rest of her body, and Riley realized that it was getting increasingly bright. 

Tara (or the thing that had used to be Tara) was producing her own light. Riley fell to his feet, raising his gun to protect himself and pressing his back against the wall. 

She looked down at the gun and shook her head, an expression of sadness on her face like Riley had never seen. She opened her mouth to speak when Riley fired pointblank at Tara's forehead. 

* * * * * 

"Buffy? Buffy, I'm so madly in love with you! No-no that's stupid... Buffy, I'm going to make you as happy as is humanly possibly… ah, that's worse than stupid, it's pretentious!" 

Angel hit the steering wheel a few times to express his point. Damn, that caffeine really did have a large effect on how much energy a person could have. He'd be passing into the Sunnydale border any time now and was getting hungry again. Behind his black Porsche a moving van traveled leisurely, driven by a guy Angel had met on the job. He was enjoying the fact that most of the people he had saved felt they owed him a favor or two. Now he was getting a free ride for all his stuff! 

He turned up the radio, listening to some of the older songs on one of the stations that only played older songs. "Paper Sun" was just finishing up and Soul Decision's "Faded" was coming in. He grinned as the wind blew across his face. He could live like this for the rest of his life, and as soon as he had Buffy in his arms that's exactly what he would be doing. 

He had pictured the scenario many times over the past few days; both of them riding off into the sunset together and making love on a rocky outcrop, under the stars or in the best hotel Angel could afford. They'd take in room service and stay locked up for days, focusing only on pleasing each other. He wanted to know everything that she liked, he wanted to discover things that she didn't even know about herself and he wanted to keep her happy for the rest of her life. Angel knew that there were other things to life than sex, but after so long with so little, there wasn't much room in his greatest expectations for anything else. 

"Buffy, I'm here. Now we can live happily ev- oh god no!" 

He pressed his hand to his forehead, looking down for a moment and smiling in embarrassment of even thinking of using such a line. Had he been looking up, he might have seen that the sign to Sunnydale had been crushed underneath an upside-down car, its wheels still spinning. Though even if Angel had seen this he wouldn't have been aware that the car had never been driven before… 

* * * * * 

Willow curled up in Tara's room (which over time had basically become her own as well) and purred contently. She ran her fingers along the satin of the bed-sheets that Tara slept on; wishing her body was there as well. But as it was not, Willow simply had to make believe that she was feeling Tara's unbelievably soft skin, running her hands through her beautiful hair and staring into those gorgeous eyes. At times (during moments Willow was too embarrassed to relate to even Buffy) she could've sworn that they'd held an almost golden quality to them. 

Her eyes opened a little from her reverie as she admitted to herself that there were problems. Tara was keeping things from her constantly. She'd learned that a lot of the spells she would try would work as long as Tara was not in the same room, which she was a bit disturbed by. But a bigger problem was that there was something she wouldn't tell her, something that she was keeping from Willow that seemed vitally important. Though what it was she didn't know. Couldn't, not until Tara felt ready to tell her. Willow just hoped that it was soon, like within days. 

Because there was a larger problem that she had fixed. She had, a few weeks ago, come to realize that there was no way she could ever live happily with Tara while Oz still existed out there. She also knew that there was no way that Oz and she could ever be together again, so after a straight forty-eight hours of consideration Willow had decided that there was only one thing to do. The animal that had once been known as Daniel Osborne had to die. So she'd called Darien Broody with the help of a few friends she'd made over the net, and was expecting that any moment she'd get a call from the British man saying that it was done, and that she could continue with her life unscathed. 

It was harsh to face the light of day, but Willow would do almost anything for Tara. Even if it meant murder. And she hoped that Tara felt the same way. 

* * * * *   
"Hello?" 

"Buffy? Jesus, it took you long enough! Are you alright?" 

"Yes, I'm fine. What's wrong, you sound out of breath?" 

"Sh-she- Buffy, she's a demon. The bullet, Buffy I didn't know!" 

"Riley, calm down. What's the matter with you, who's a demon?" 

"Tara!" 

"…What? What are you-" 

"Buffy, there's no time to talk, my backup just got here. Get to Willow; make sure she's all right. If that… thing gets to her first there'll be nothing to stop it from-" 

"I got it-" 

"She caught the bullet Buffy; she caught it. The damn gun was a foot away from her face and she- Hi, hi, Finn. Riley Finn. Fellas', I don't know what I just saw here. Yeah, yeah, I'm new. First day on the job." 

"Riley." 

"Yeah, she came right at me guys, I don't know what she was. I must've fired an entire round-" 

"Riley!" 

"What? Oh, Buffy listen, backup is here, get to Willow's." /_Click_/ 

"…sigh>Riley…." /_Click_/ 

* * * * * 

Ethan pulled up at Willy's in the Porsche and rolled down the window, trying to be as conspicuous about it as possible. The entire place looked baron, but he knew that within must have been a thriving business, catering to the whims and needs of the many demons and creatures of the night that populated Sunnydale. Why he'd gone clean and wouldn't except criminals Ethan would never know. Damn shame. 

A movement in the rear-view mirror caught his eye, and upon closer inspection he saw there was a figure wearing what looked to be a potato sack over its head, running straight for his car. He reached underneath the driver's seat for his magnum but before he could even turn around it jumped through the back windshield of the vehicle with enough force to blow large chunks of glass into the back of his headrest. 

"Jesus!" Was all Ethan could shout as he whipped off the seatbelt and turned as quickly as possible, pressing his back against the steering wheel (uncomfortable as it was) and trying to get a good aim on the sack-wearer. But whoever it was moved to fast and jumped on top of him, nearly breaking his spine on the steering wheel, the horn of the Porsche blaring loudly. 

Now with a much closer inspection of the cream-colored creature, Ethan saw that what had looked like a sack _was_ it's head, deflating and inflating as it breathed quickly. One eye blinked at him while the other got lost in the folds of its face. 

"Xander Harris?" 

Ethan blinked, his face strained from the pain and pressure on his back. He shook his head and put forth the hand not holding the gun. 

"Ethan Rayne. Ugh, pleasure to meet you." 

Denying his hand the creature jumped off into the passenger side, a short tail wagging back and forth. It's voice sounded slightly muffled and Ethan noticed he couldn't tell where the voice was emanating from. 

"My sincerest apologies, sir. Knack-knack." 

Ethan's eyes grew wide. "What did you just call me? I know Tinakish well, you insipid little bastard!" 

If anything the creature actually seemed to shy back. "Once again, Fleetus, I-I'm very-" 

Ethan was growing more and more outraged at the things the creature was calling him. He pointed the gun at the it's face, if that's what it could be called. 

"You call me a Fleetus again and you're going to find yourself with a few more orifices than you were born with, my ugly friend." 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment; Ethan curled up with his back now against the door and the creature in the same position, its tail quivering slightly and a long line of saliva dribbling onto the upholstery. Had it not been for the wheezing its head made as it breathed slowly in and out, they could've heard a pin drop. Ethan could tell that it was struggling very hard not to move, as every few seconds it would suffer from a slight tic. 

With a flick of his wrist Ethan signaled that the creature should leave, but as it turned to do so he put a hand on its shoulder to stop its progress for a moment. With his other hand, still holding the gun Ethan pushed a button near the handle of his door that made the passenger side window roll down in an electronic whir. With a quick tap the creature then jumped through the now open exit, and as Ethan watched it scamper quickly off into the bar he let out a deep breath of relief. He could have easily been killed there, had it been to the creature's wishes. 

He jumped as someone called out his name. But upon turning around he smiled; something he couldn't help doing when looking into those fiery, innocent eyes. He unlocked the passenger side door and signaled the she go to it. As she opened the door he put out a hand and pulled her gently inside. 

"W-what happened to your window? Are you ok-kay?" 

"Fine, Terry; though I believe I just met my first untamed Tinaki." 

* 

Anya saw the Tinaki enter and tapped her watch to show her impatience with his tardiness. He scampered over to the stool next to her and signaled to Willy at the bar. 

"Please a drinks sir. Tic-tic. Bishi Oddu-" 

Anya covered his mouth before he could finish the word. _Of all the luck. Out of every Tinaki in the world I hire the one with Tourette's Syndrome._ After a moment she stared at him. 

"You think you can keep that under control?" 

He nodded. "I need drink. You say Xander b-buy-bought, bought a Porsche?" 

"Yeah… so?" 

"I make a mistake… Never mind, Bishi, when d-do you want this?" 

Willy passed the Ticker down towards the bar at him, which he promptly caught in one webbed hand. Anya passed a card across the bar to him, a stern glance on her face. 

"Try not to screw this up, it has to look like a failed robbery." 

He nodded and took the card with his free hand, quickly and subtly transferring it to a pocket in its flesh. "A-and then you pay me?" 

"Right. Then I pay you. Just as soon as the money comes to me." 

She smiled at him and stood, smoothing out her dress. "Pay my drink?" 

"I-I was going to ask you." 

She frowned, then opened her purse and slammed a twenty onto the counter. Throwing a look of what she hoped to be darts at him, Anya neared the Tinaki. 

"Don't screw this up, Biotin. I've got too much riding on it." And with that she left him nervously quaffing down his drink through one of the many holes on his hand. But not before tripping over Spike who had chosen that moment to fall off his own stool, blocking her way and snagging the bottom of her heel with his jacket, causing her to stumble. After a moment of wavering she looked around to make sure no one had noticed and kicked him in the side before storming out of the bar. The last she heard was a shouted "Bloody Hell!" and the big trucker she had been waiting next to grunting in laughter. 

* * * * * 

He shifted slightly on the tour bus, his guitar in his hands as he plucked the strings half-heartedly. He'd never really considered himself a minstrel, but certainly not an artist. He wasn't sure how or where to categorize himself, and most of the time just didn't care to. 

"Escuse meh sir, please no play on bus." 

Not bothering to look up at the speaker, he nodded and replaced the wood back into its casing, snapping shut the locks with a certain amount of grace. He'd get off soon as the scenery was beginning to bore him, but for now he'd amuse himself by trying to understand what the tall dark man was trying to relate to the other occupants of the bus. Something about a man transported to another land to act as a savior to the world. He'd heard it many times before, but this particular one was enjoyable enough to listen to again. 

* * * * * 

"Really; s-so they're all assassins?" 

"Well, most of the Tinaki are trained in one respect or another to be killers yes, but occasionally they can be hired out as protectors or body guards. That usually doesn't work out to well since they're prone to diseases quite easily. I'm not sure what the one I met today had… In any case, I know the kid he's looking for." 

Ethan winked at her and took a sip of his tequila. "It won't be a loss to society, I'll tell you that." 

She frowned and took a long gulp of her own, growing more nervous by the second to be in such open environments. 

"Ethan, do we have to stay out in the garden?" 

"Relax, Madam Shin doesn't let anyone in she doesn't trust. They've got mind readers Tara, it isn't a problem." 

She nodded and smoothed out her dress despite her pristine condition. 

"I-I…I broke out today." 

Ethan almost choked on his olive and coughed a few times as it was. "Say what?" 

"I di-didn't mean to, I was j-just n-nervous. I had to b-b…I had to break into Mighal's today, and Ri- uh, a c-cop got there sooner than I thought. I p-paid for wha-" 

Ethan reached over and cupped her cheek in a fatherly manner as tears began to spill over her cheeks. She looked into his eyes and quieted down. 

"I understand Terry, it's normal really. I'm surprised it hadn't happened earlier." 

"I-it sort of happened once, almost. I was being chased by a- by a big dog and I could feel it coming. It t-took me almost h-half an hour to calm myself." 

He nodded and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "It'll be okay. What happened to this cop?" 

She shrugged. "I don't remember much, other than him screaming and- p-pulling a g-gun on me." 

Ethan had been digging into a prime rib, but stopped at hearing this. "He shoot at you?" 

She nodded but said nothing else. "Well I have to say I'm amazed. Very few people would do that to a Crinotha… But Terry there are more pressing matters I came here for. Like, for instance, why exactly you need two million dollars." 

"I-it's for a… a loved one. S-she d-doesn't have much money in the bank and lost a-almost all of it on, umm, an expedition. I-if I could get that much money I kn-know I could make her happy." 

Ethan nodded as he chewed on the rare meat. He spun his fork in the air slightly. "And if you don't?" 

She looked down, her hands in her lap. "I-I don't know...I also w-want to soften the b-blow when-w-when I-" 

"When you tell her about what you really are." 

She nodded again. He stared at her for a moment before signaling to her food with his fork. 

"C'mon, eat. You haven't even touched the salad." 

After a moment, Tara reluctantly picked up her own utensils and started stabbing at the lettuce and radishes. For a while both simply sat in the peaceful silence of the garden, closed off from the rest of the world while sitting at their stone table, quietly eating their food. The only sound was that of birds chirping and the silverware tapping on the China. 

Finally, once his plate was completely clean save for the bones and stalks of celery, Ethan dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and smiled over at her. 

"Alright, I'll do it." 

Tara looked up, shocked. She quickly swallowed the last bit of crab and got up off her side of the bench to embrace him. 

"Oh, thank you Ethan, you r-really d-dd-don't know h-how m-much-" 

He nodded and signaled for her to be quiet. "On two conditions." 

She nodded and sat down. He looked at her and couldn't help but grin. It was very rare that he (_or anyone_, he thought) could make Terry smile as brightly as she was at that moment. 

"One, you have to do a simple raising spell for me. I think we both know that you aren't the only reason I'm down here. I need to raise something to keep the slayer occupied. I know you've met the slayer, so can you think of anything, anyone?" 

After a moment Tara nodded. 

"Good, good. I realize you don't want to kill her and I wouldn't ask you to do that. Just keep her busy with it, what ever it is. I need time to… complete other objectives." 

Ethan was about to continue but paused when a waitress, garbed in the usual attire for Shin's (black body paint, short red skirt and shirt, white Chinese mask) arrived to clear away their meals. Both waited patiently for her to get everything and put the bill down before she walked daintily away. Once she had disappeared Ethan pulled out his checkbook to pay for the bill. Tara watched him. 

"Secondly?" 

"What?" 

"You s-said that there were two things you w-wanted from me; t-two conditions. W-what's the second?" 

"Oh right. Who is she?" 

Tara's eyes went wide for a moment, but she passed it over as being bitten by something on her foot. Wiping off an imaginary ant she stared back at him and cleared her throat. 

"Uh, who's who?" 

Ethan laughed out loud, clapping his hands together in mirth. This went on for a moment before he could calm down again, and he was still wheezing when he spoke to her. 

"T-Terry there are, heh, there are very few things you can't do, but playing dumb is one, one of those things. Who is she?" 

Before Tara could answer he grabbed her hand, now very little wit left in his face. "And I know for a fact that lying is another thing you're very bad at. I don't know why you'd want to, but don't do it anyway." 

She nodded and as soon as her hand was free she reached for her drink, only to realize that it wasn't there. Nothing was but a vase of flowers and the red tablecloth to match the décor of the building and its employees. The waitress… She looked back up at Ethan nervously, expecting the worst from what she was about to say. 

"W-W-Willow…Willow Rosenberg." 

Very few things in Ethan's life had both surprised him and yet seemed so right. Of course he would never admit it to her, but Ethan could see it happening. There was one more thing he wanted to know. 

"When…when did you start seeing her?" 

"W-well, I've known her since H-Halloween of ninety-nine." 

Ethan nodded. He felt the rage building inside him, but couldn't direct it towards Tara. He knew there wasn't a harmful bone in the girl's body, but she had knowingly kept things from him, and that she was fairly good at. He placed the check for the food on the table and ripped out another from near the back of the book, sliding it across the table towards her. 

"I had this written out earlier, just in case." 

She smiled sadly, knowing that he wasn't happy with her. "Ethan, thank y-". 

"No. Don't you do that Tara!" 

She withdrew as though he'd slapped her across the face. It broke his heart to do this, and he couldn't make eye contact with her, but if he couldn't trust her… 

"Don't thank me Tara, just leave. I know for a fact that you can make that witch very happy, and you know I hope you are happy together. I wish you the best of luck, but I don't want to see or hear from you again. You took advantage of what I was telling you, and you obviously don't trust me, so why should I you?" 

He paused for a moment, then stood up, dusting off his trousers. He saw out of the corner of his eye that she was crying again. He couldn't take much more of this. 

"D-do you still" (Barely a whisper. God how he hated to do this to her) "w-want me to-" 

"I would appreciate it, yes. Thank you." 

With that Ethan turned and left the table. Tara sat and cried until the waitress came to take the check, at which point she got up and rushed out to catch a bus back to the dorms. 

* * * * * 

_Ring…ring…ring…_(C'mon gad dammit, pick up)_ ring…/click/_. 

"Officer Finn here." 

"Riley, we need to talk." 

"Oh Buffy, tentacles." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You can kill her, I know it. Just get past the tentacles, they're fast. If you can get past them you should be able to get to her body, and that's just like a normal person's body, just…" 

"Riley." 

"Huh?" 

"Thank you. For everything. The-the time I've spent with you, I can't begin to explain how-" 

"Buffy, what's going on? This is sounding strangely like-" 

"It is." 

From Riley's side the screeching of a car coming to a sudden halt can be heard, followed by about half a dozen horns. 

"What?!" 

"Riley, I'm sorry-" 

"What did I do? Buffy c'mon, gimme' something to go on here!" 

"You didn't do anything, I just- listen, it's not you, it's-" 

"Don't you dare! Don't you even! Buffy, you are not breaking up with me. You're not." 

"meekly> I'm sorry Riley." 

"GOD DAMN YOU, DON'T YOU HANG UP ON ME!" 

"Riley, I really, I just- I love you Riley-" 

"BUFFY NO- FUCK, WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE! Okay, just wai-" 

_/Click/_

"BUFFY!!!………B-Buffy?……Why?…" 

* * * * * 

"Ondi' men, coschas tudras. Mier Ondi' men. Deirde deirde, bulas Ondi men; Ondi' men, coschas tudras. As it was written, let it be shown to me now." 

Willow dropped a wisp of grain into the fire, awaiting the arrival. It came shortly thereafter. 

He saw her, then reached inside. He grasped the light of her soul, causing her to catch her breath violently for a moment, until he let go. 

"You shall be shown what you desire, my child. But are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes. Omni ondi'. Deirde. Show me please, I beg this of you." 

"…As you wish."

At this Willow fainted dead away. 

* * * * * 

The first thing Willow felt was pain. Then she felt paranoia alongside the pain, but as she went deeper she saw and felt what encompassed that body. Love. A love for what, she was not sure. It was not time for her to understand that, but she did feel that it was directed outwards and not within. She felt that very little love was directed inwards. But all of this was forgotten as she heard the words and learned their meanings. 

"Buschi cup contra, cup-cup hem nah verschi." _Raise the behemoth, but give him no wings>_

Tara's voice. If she was translating it, she knew what she was doing. Willow stopped her search for what Tara was hiding from her; entranced by the spell she was performing. 

"Buschi cup contra, cup-cup hem nah bellings." _Raise the behemoth, but give him no teeth>_

Who was the behemoth, and why would Tara want to raise him? 

"Buschi cup wannag, del fall supra nerfehr." _Raise the night and let it reign>_

What was she doing? 

"Purd cor, cup nagg…" _Protect the Girl>_   
"-nash to cup contra." _with the Savior>_

Who? Willow felt a tug at her insides, realizing that it was time for her to leave. If she stayed any longer she'd be trapped within the depths of Tara's mind forever. An enticing fate to be sure, but not now. Willow let the stream take her out, more confused than when she'd gone in, but at least now she had a purpose in mind. She had a plan. 

* * * * * 

"How much for the doll?" 

"You Amereecan?" 

He nodded. 

"Teh-wenty dollars." 

"You take American bills?" 

"Jes', why?" 

Oz shrugged. "Just didn't expect that." 

He pulled out his wallet and sorted through the various currencies in his wallet until he came upon an American twenty, Adams' smiling brightly to the right as always. He put it on the table. 

"Thank you. You want dis' wrapped?" 

Oz shook his head and took the doll as it was, the other man saying thanks in his native language as he walked slowly away. 

The current bazaar he stood in was one of the better he'd been in since… since Istanbul. Here he'd just picked up an authentic African Zuni doll for twenty (_no, teh-wenty_) dollars. 

Oz observed the desert landscape surrounding him from within his safety goggles, the wind blowing up small sandstorms all around him. As a result his purple trench coat was swayed and buffeted along with his hair (now back to red) which he was finally allowing to grow out. 

The bell-tower behind him rang thrice, marking the end of his time in this current place. He'd ditched this bus a couple miles back, but only after taking a warning from the tall dark man that full-blown sandstorms were more than common to this area. He'd have to be quick about this before it closed for good. 

Their owners, who had no doubt also been aware of another sandstorm coming soon, were closing the shops in the bazaar around him. Tables and chairs were being folded, tents collapsed and camels gathered as all were preparing for the trek southward towards Ah'da'men. Oz stooped down, seemingly bowing on his knees and cracked open his briefcase. 

Taking out a light five by three-inch tube shining brightly with the electricity coursing within, Oz connected it to a small, round black base, screwing it into place. At the press of the first of three red buttons adorning the base he watched as a hole at the top of the tube slid quickly open. 

"Hey pal, you'd be more healthy to move yourself on outta here!" 

Oz looked up to see one of the American shop owners he'd bought a candle from standing about twenty feet to his right, staring at him. He put up a hand and waved the man off. 

"Don't worry about me, I've got a ride coming!" He shouted back. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hear anything over the wind, and as a result when the other man spoke Oz had no idea what he said. But the man was walking away, so he wasn't going to worry about it. 

Searching the items of the briefcase one last time, Oz came up with a five-inch rod, then slipped it into the electric hole of the tube. Once he felt it snuggly click into the other side the cylinder he pushed the first red button again and grinned as the hole closed up. He just couldn't get enough of this thing. He watched around him as everyone sped up, and time literally flew across the desert plains, the small machine beneath him humming in unimaginable power. 

10 minute_seconds_ later: 

It was when his watch started beeping that Oz knew he was in trouble, and a glance at it showed he had fifteen seconds left. Not enough time. He waited another three seconds for the tube to charge, then unscrewed it (_only halfway through charging, damn!_) and tossed the base back in his briefcase. His watch met the ten second mark. He'd never been this close to certain death before! It felt oddly invigorating, but he had to be positive about the outcome. Tearing a piece of the recently purchased Zuni doll's hair out of it's head, Oz twisted the tube at it's midsection a slight bit until a line began to surface within. Oz quickly and nimbly placed the hair into the line and twisted again, closing it. 

Reaching into the deep pockets of his trench coat, Oz noticed that everyone was gone. Nothing but him and the church he stood next to remained. Retrieving the black Mantrag from his pocket he observed the large mouth of the object as he quickly (_fizz-crackle_:** "5 seconds remaining"**) but carefully slid the power tube into the Mantrag. It wasn't (**"4 seconds remaining"**) always the most reliable weapon, but it did it's job well. 

He was actually going to make it! He'd go on to the final leg and win everything back! He'd become the (**"3 seconds remaining"**) new protector! He smirked as he readied himself (**"2 seconds remaining"**) for the electric charge of pushing his fist into the Mantrag. It hadn't been that hard, really. 

The bell rang once. _What?_ (**"1 second left"**) Oz turned his head, looking up and squinting at the church's bell-tower in confusion, then understanding as he saw the dark form staring back at him, looking as though he was aim-. 

Oz would've laughed at his own stupidity had he had enough time. He fell to the ground from the shock of the hit to the side of his head. The last thing he saw was the electrical field surrounding the Mantrag that his fist was supposed to have been in, then distorting and disappearing; no doubt destined for Africa. Had he thought of it, he might've found it oddly amusing that of all the people he'd managed to save, the one he forgot about was himself. He hoped the next man would have more luck. No, he hoped the next wouldn't fall for the ultimate failure…hesitation. 

* * * * * 

Xander had never felt like whooping at the top of his lungs until recently. He couldn't believe it, but his days were actually looking up. Closing the door to the Porsche as softly as he could, he took a few steps back and observed the beauty. Nice, black and shiny… 

The keys jingled slightly in his hands as he approached the door to his house, and as he stood by the door sorting through them he was thinking of perhaps selling the big lump of rotting wood. Sure it was his home, where he'd grown up and where he'd had some of the better moments of his life, but Xander was looking for happiness, and he doubted he'd find it in this place. 

Finally coming upon the right key he inserted it into the lock and gave it a twist, jiggling it a little as always just so it would disengage fully. Upon entering he realized he was a little hungry. 

………………… 

Well, cheese sandwiches weren't on his favorite list, but they certainly were great for a body that had had very little nourishment for forty-eight hours… 

A rat squeaked from the attic above. 

The kitchen telephone rang on it's hook, positioned directly between two cupboards. As he reached over to grab it another rat squeaked from above. And another. His hand lightly grazing the blue phone, his mouth burning from the cheese he'd stuck in the microwave, Xander tilted his head slightly upwards and listened for anything else… Nothing. 

He'd had his hand on and was about to pull the phone off it's wall cradle when a cacophony of screaming rats met his ears, sounding as though one large battle was going on and they were butchering each other. A large thump broke through his imagination barrier and he realized there was something much larger in the attic, possibly scaring the rats. Looking around for any weapon close by, Xander spotted a spatula right below the utensil drawer. He'd almost taken it when he realized what he was doing. 

………………… 

The attic door swung open lazily, shafts of sunlight shining through the broken wood of the roof above him. Entering the attic, Ginzu knife in hand, Xander flicked the light switch on. 

A burst of electricity made him scream as the light flickered to life, then died out again. Feeling stupid for his cowardly manner, Xander looked around the room. Rocking chair, lots of rat droppings, dead rats (no biggee, dead rats were common in the attic), lots of brown boxes, Christmas decorations, small open window, more rat droppings, d- 

Small open window? He never opened that window. But here it was, standing wide open, and birds could be heard chirping on the other side. Upon inspection Xander noticed the windowsill was covered in a fine layer of thick transparent goo. 

Tempted to run his finger through it, Xander didn't hear the quick shuffling behind him, but he did hear the creaking of wood. Upon instinct he ducked and cowered, shaking slightly and looking up. What he saw made him scream. 

At first he thought he was in a nightmare. The guy held a pitchfork in his hands and had what he thought was a potato sack on his head until he realized that the sack _was_ its head, and worse than that, it wasn't human. He jumped to the side as whatever it was slammed the pitchfork into the floor where he'd been crouching, then quickly pulled it out again. 

He had think of something and quick. Buffy! No, that was always his first thought, but she couldn't do anything for him now. The creature rushed him then, Xander screaming again and dodging to the right just in time, bringing his left hand (not the one holding the knife unfortunately) up to his opponent's head, knocking it forwards. Stunned momentarily, it stumbled forward and Xander took the opportunity to try for the door. A hand closed around his ankle though, and Xander felt himself leave the ground, flying for a moment before slamming into the rocking chair, completely obliterating it. He lifted his face from the floor (dried rat shit covering the left side of it) and looked up to see that the animal was not only on it's feet but directly above him, pitchfork raised high in the air and about to add four extra holes to his midsection. 

Xander, in a last chance at saving himself launched his feet into the air and, finding support on the dusty floor with his hands, locked them around the creature's neck. He'd seen it done a million times in wrestling but hadn't tried to do it himself since he'd broken the television set. Yanking on the thing's neck (if you could call it that, it was really just a small amount of spaced between the shoulders and that pillow case of a head; there was no real bone) as hard as he could, Xander was rewarded as he felt it lose it's balance and fall backward, bringing him with it. As they both hit the floor again, Xander atop the monster and perversely straddling it, he plunged the Ginzu deep into its chest. Sighing deeply for a moment, he stabbed again into it's head and felt it shudder in the throws of death. After about the eighth time Xander stabbed a pocket of vanilla-covered flesh that burst, and out (impaled upon the sharp blade) came a small 3 by 5 card. He took it off the knife and looked closer through the transparent blood. 

*****************************************   
* The security lock for the basement *   
* is "2001", when he bought the damn *   
* thing. Not even smart even smart *   
* enough to put his birth-date. I *   
* left you the pitchfork in the attic *   
* I'm pretty sure that'll look like a robbery *   
* Oh and take some stuff too. *   
***************************************** 

* * * * * 

Cordelia hung up the phone in frustration. Not even Xander was home. She'd had the oddest feeling he would be. 

* * * * * 

Parker stopped the van and put it in neutral. Less than a hundred yards away stood the Sunnydale Minimum Security Transfer Lock-Up in all it's defenseless glory. He unbuckled his safety belt for a moment and opened the door, stepping lightly out and traveling to the front of the large vehicle. Making sure everything was tucked in properly, Parker observed his craftsmanship with a smile. This was going to work. 

Hopping back into the van he turned the player back on, pumping up the volume slightly and listening to the CD he'd burnt just for this occasion. 

A while back he'd heard about a girl that was terrorizing the campus and one group of people in particular. Buffy something and her crew. These acquaintances of his had explained of her various bad deeds around town, so he'd looked into her a little. To be honest she was a bit of a mystery at first. Not much was known about her, but as he'd studied the crimes she had been convicted of doing, he'd grown increasingly interested in her. She and Buffy had placed each other in the hospital at one point, and while Buffy had come away almost unscathed Faith had been knocked into a coma. 

Then she'd woken up and escaped to LA after committing a few more misdemeanors. He smiled. Eventually he'd gone to more…desperate methods of learning about her. It was plain knowledge around campus of what Buffy was. Some sort of savoir meant to protect them all. But Faith… she had apparently been like Buffy once. Then she turned to rebel against the authority of those over her and had become a rogue…whatever she was supposed to be. To be honest there was still a lot he didn't know about her, but he was more then willing to learn. 

He wasn't quite sure why she'd turned herself in (he'd guessed it was to give herself time to lay low until everything she had done blew over) or how she'd ended up being transferred to minimum security so soon, but he was going to use it to his advantage. Slipping the gas mask over his face, Parker went over the plan one more time in his head. He liked danger, but he loved dangerous women, and Parker was in love with Faith the demon hunter. 

* * * * * 

Tara ran into the dorms as fast as her feet would take her, but she felt that it still wasn't quick enough. She felt like there were too many reasons why she had to get back to Willow. For one she had to tell Willow about who she was before Riley or Buffy or anyone else he might've told did. After raising A.D.A.M. Tara had traveled inside of Riley's mind to see what he was doing or if he'd said anything. Upon entering she'd been struck with eminent sorrow and anger; luckily none of it directed at her. She did learn that he had told Buffy, but something had pulled her out before she could get anything else. Then there was the fact that there had been another presence with her when she'd performed the raising spell… She was hoping with all her soul that it hadn't been 

* * * * * 

Willow dabbed the last bit of solution onto the board, then waited. It would only take a few more moments for Tara to reach her, then she would know for sure. Once she'd been pulled out of Tara's mind she'd performed a small spell that would bring Tara to her. Then she'd moved onto a larger one that would detect if demons were inside the room with her carrying any devious intent. As soon as Tara entered, Willow would know, though the board was spinning some already. She felt as though she already did know, but that wasn't what she was after. Tara didn't want to give her the truth, so she would have to get to it herself. Killing two birds with one stone, she would discover whether or not Tara's raising spell was harmful and if she was human. This wasn't the way Willow had wanted this to happen. She'd been given no other choice… 

* * * * * 

Buffy raced across the wide-open campus towards the dorm building, traveling at the highest speeds she could reach. Vaulting over a picnic table, Buffy went over in her mind one more time exactly what Riley had told her. He'd said the she was extremely dangerous, hadn't he? He'd said that she had attacked him, that she had caught the bullet he'd fired at her and that she wasn't human. The fact that she had caught the bullet automatically meant that there wasn't a chance in hell Buffy could beat her with speed. As it was students gaped at her as she fired past them, but very few things were as fast as a bullet. Buffy needed some way of getting to her, some way of throwing her off guard. For now she simply hoped that he got there before Tara did, and that Riley hadn't just had too much coffee. He was trustworthy, and that's why Buffy had faith in what she was about to do. 

* * * * * 

Giles huffed as he and Carl stacked the last bag of cocaine onto the pile. Both men wore sweat-soaked bandanas and equally sweaty sleeveless gray shirts. With a loud grunt he pushed the bag into place and closed the locker on the last stack. 

"Carl, the rope." 

Carl, an Italian man in his mid-forties (though his hair was still full and shining black, as was his mustachio) grinned up at Giles as the British man climbed onto the container and signaled him to throw the length of coil to him. He nodded and threw it, at which point Giles deftly got it, looping the rope through the four hoops at the top, tying doubled knots to make sure they stayed. He then jumped off the container and hit the concrete below. 

Finding the other part of the rope he tied them together, his hands rough and course from handling heavy materials for the better part of the day. Once he connected the two ends a few times over he gave the rope a good yank and smiled at its firmness. This container, like all the others, was going to make it to Chicago in tip-top shape. 

"Hey man, thanks for lettin' me in on this. It's a good deal." Carl slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. 

Giles smiled back at him and walked to the garage entrance. "It isn't a problem Carl, I'll get you your pay once we land in, uh… I believe the Windy City is how they put it?" 

Carl laughed again, overly loud always being a part of his nature, and saluted him. "Alright man. Well, I've got to go get the semi so me and Lewis can load these babies up." 

Giles nodded, looking over a list of Barley's clients he must've left out. Carl looked down at his feet, shuffling them a bit uncomfortably and sticking his hands in his pockets. 

"Which, heh-heh, which reminds me Rupert. I just been wondering… is Lewis gonna be in on this? You know, the money and all." 

Giles glanced up at him nonchalantly. "I'm paying you Carl. Just you." 

Carl nodded and grinned congenially at him. "O-okay man. I'll see you tonight." 

Giles nodded and both men walked off in separate directions; Carl towards the front of the shop (where he would thank Barley for his time and space as most criminals felt required to do), and Giles towards the back (he'd already thanked Barley twice today). Once at the large metal shutter, Giles grasped the handle and lifted, glad to hear the squeak as it came up, folding back inside. The thing was so old that Giles feared it would eventually rust itself shut. Closing it again behind him, Giles quickly jogged towards his car at the end of the loading area. 

Upon reaching his car he heard what sounded like soft thunking against a punching bag. Glancing to his left he saw something that nearly knocked him off his feet. Riley Finn, decked out and garbed up in full riot gear, was beating the ever-loving shit out of Ethan Rayne. 

* * * * * 

Tara burst into the dorm room only to find Willow on the verge of tears. As soon as the redhead saw her she started to cry in earnest. 

"You bitch…" Was all Tara could make out between Willow's sobbing. Ignoring the remark she walked over to Willow, trying to put her hands on her in a comforting way but deciding against it. 

"Please, Willow-" That was when Tara noticed the board floating in the air not three feet from them, spinning very quickly. Startled, she stared at it. _A hostile demon detector. But why is-_

Willow saw her staring and nodded; her face red. "Yeah, that's right! I did that to see what you were hiding! What was- what did that spell do, Tara?" 

Tara, realizing the door was still open, rushed to close it. Once done she turned back to Willow who was by now on her feet. 

"How- how could you? Tara, I loved you!" 

She held her stomach in pain, and moved backward as Tara approached her. "P-please, Willow I d-didn't mean t-tt-to-" 

Willow slapped her straight across the face. "Show me! SHOW ME WHO YOU REALLY ARE!" 

She couldn't take much more of this. She knew Willow would be angry but she didn't… she didn't realize that Willow would hate her for it. 

Willow slapped her again, this time much harder. Tara fell to her feet, crying now as well. "W-Ww-Will-o please-" 

Without thinking Willow kicked her. Tara fell back, trying to move away but not feeling as though she had the strength. 

"I would've done anything for you! I killed, Tara, blood is on my hands and I didn't care because all I wanted was you!" 

Tara rose to her knees reaching out to Willow. "A-and all I w-want I-s, all I w-want is y-you-" She reached out to grab Willow, to take her hand but Willow pulled away, shaking from anger. Tara couldn't hold back any longer. There was to much anger inside Willow, there was too much pain inside herself from Willow's rejection. She began to change. 

Willow watched as Tara's skin began to take on a different shade and lump formed on her back. Something was growing on her back! 

* * * * * 

Buffy hit the door so hard it broke off the hinges, pieces and splinters of wood flying every which way. She immediately spotted Willow in front of something that looked as though it was ready to lunge. She quickly pushed Willow out of the way and drew forth a knife, surveying the thing beneath her. 

It was golden and naked; its clothes were nowhere to be seen. All she could make out was that it was shuddering slightly and it had tentacles of some sort growing out of it's back. 

"B-Buffy it's Tar-" 

"Was Tara, Will. It was. I don't know what it is now, but it tried to kill Riley earlier today." 

Shocked, Willow looked back at the form in disbelief. "But Tara would nev-" 

Buffy and cut her off, drawing a large knife from within her waistband. "I know, and this isn't Tara." 

Buffy took on an offensive stance and was about to attack when the Tara-being shot up, almost looking as though she was taking on Christ's last form; her head lolling slightly to one side, here arms spread wide and her legs together. Buffy had been prepared for a sudden movement, and seeing that her body was unprotected, shot the blade forward at her stomach. 

Willow was entranced. She seemed to remember seeing this being before somewhere, but couldn't put a finger on it. It was Tara (or at least it looked like her), only her face looked a little different. Not better nor worse, simply different. Then of course there was the fact that it looked like someone had dipped her in pure gold (had she not been so taken aback she would've blushed at noticing that everything she'd already experienced was still there), then stuck about eight octopus-like appendages between the girl's shoulder-blades. Her gaze was broken when she noticed Buffy about to stab her.

An appendage easily grabbed hold of Buffy's wrist, yanking a little to get Buffy to drop the knife. Frightened by the speed of the move, Buffy jumped for a roundhouse kick on it but more tentacles blocked her way, completely protecting the body behind them.

Tara was confused. Everything was going by to fast and she was more than afraid at this point. She couldn't control anything about her body, and had she been able to she would have called to Willow for help. Her defenses were taking care of Buffy but there was nothing to protect her from the overwhelming sense of sadness that was forming in her throat and the pit of her stomach. Ethan had left her, Riley had backed away from her and even tried to kill her and now Buffy was doing everything possible to do the same. Kicks and punches to her protection were doing little to her, but the fact that she could feel Buffy's (a girl she'd considered to be her friend) despise of her was hurting her worse than any of the hits could. She had to get to Willow. The last chance she had, the last person that she felt any love from.

When Buffy saw the thing moving towards Willow she almost screamed. Renewing her efforts she used it's defenses against it by getting it to grapple onto both of her wrists. Then she balanced her feet on two more tentacles and jumped.

Willow put her hands up to her mouth as she watched it grab onto Buffy and flip her over to where she was. Luckily, it seemed as though Buffy had seen this coming and was preparing to stab again.

Tara was almost at Willow when she felt Buffy use her body to jump over and get between the two of them. The blonde raised her hand to stab again, and as Tara felt one of her protections moving to stop her she got a good look at Willow's expression. It was a look of fear. Fear of…her. Tara wanted to move back, she wanted to run away; she wanted to be anyplace but here. Only she couldn't move. He body was rendered totally useless. There was another look on Willow's face that hurt Tara worse than anything else she'd ever experienced. She saw hope there; hope that Buffy wouldn't miss, that she'd land her mark.

Buffy threw one last, desperate shot at Tara and was rewarded with a slick wet sound of steel meeting, then entering flesh. After a moment the creature fell to the side, it's tentacles no longer supporting it. 

Willow ran over to the body as she heard Tara trying to say something. She saw a line of red blood running along her tongue inside her mouth. She tried not to look at the gaping wound in her stomach. But once Willow looked into Tara's eyes she realized she'd made a mistake. She shook her head and cried as the golden face being cradled in her lap gasped for breath. A few of her tears spilled onto Tara's face and at this the dying girl blinked, a look of surprise adorning her face. She reached up and ran one golden hand through Willow's red mane, a smile forming on her face. 

"You…you do care…I was wrong." 

Willow sobbed and shook her head, taking Tara's in her hands and pressing it to her. "No, no. Don't do this Tara please! Don't leave me…" 

She screamed as she felt Tara shudder, grabbing on tighter. She didn't notice as Buffy backed away slightly. 

"Willow, Willow she was going to hurt you…Will?" 

She didn't answer for a long time. All she could do was cry onto the body beneath her. But once she found herself unable to cry anymore, she looked up to see that Buffy was still there. Sitting with her back to the door, staring at her. 

"…You gonna be okay?" 

Something struck Willow. Something she remembered seeing in one of the books she owned. _Buffy can't know!_ She nodded, pulling Tara (now reverted to her human form) closer to her. 

Buffy nodded back, then silently opened the door and exited, doubtful that she'd see Willow again for a very long time. She'd done the right thing, she knew she had. No matter how painful it was, a demon had possessed Tara. She'd done the right thing. 

* * * * * 

"Son-of-a-bitch, I'll teach you to park in FUCKING HAN-DI-CAPPED- SPACE!" Riley accentuated every syllable with a punch to the older man's gut. The bastard not only illegally parked, but also was missing his license plates. Riley knew a rat when he saw one, and this particular rat had done the wrong thing at the wrong time. 

"Uh, Officer Finn?" Both men looked up. Riley surprised, Ethan holding more of an '_of course, it had to be at this moment you showed up_' expression. Giles politely waited for Riley to remove his fist from Ethan's gut, which he eventually did. 

Riley smoothed out his uniform. "Giles." 

Giles nodded back. "What seems to be the problem here?" 

Riley smiled grimly. "Afraid that's my line now, Sir." He pointed to Ethan, who was now hunkered down on the sidewalk trying to regain his breath. "Found this guy looking suspicious walking out of the bank. Decided to interrogate him and he gave me lip." 

Ethan, hand on his chest, looked up from his position on the ground. "Gave you lip?" He asked incredulously, wheezing slightly "I asked you what bloody time it was!" 

Riley had to strive just not to kick him again. Casting a reckless glance at Giles, almost daring him to say anything, Riley stepped towards the Porsche. "Nice car. Are you aware a very good friend of mine owns one of these? It's very interesting how yours' doesn't seem to have any plates!" 

Ethan's eyes went wide. He must've been talking about the ones he'd hijacked the car from. No, that was impossible! He had to play it cool no matter what. Standing on his shaky knees, Ethan pointed to the car. "I was driving and stopped at a diner to eat. When I came back out they were gone. I was just going to pick up new one's when I'd stopped at the bank to get some cash to pay for them." (Actually, he'd been taking out some more cash for himself. He had been planning on getting a new car so no one would ask any questions. Too late, it seemed.) 

Riley had to leave before Giles began to suspect he was telling the truth. He was going to screw the guy over one more time by writing him an enormous ticket but now decided against it. "Alright, well I'm gonna check out your story, Mr. Rayne. Until I get any further evidence I'm gonna let you go." 

Ethan pseudo-smiled at him. "Oh, thank you so very much sir." 

Riley nodded and began walking back to his car when Giles called out to him. "Say 'hello' to Buffy for me!" 

Riley stopped in his tracks, turning slowly and yelling back at him. "Say 'hello' to her yourself Giles. I wouldn't have the slightest idea where she is. Her having just thrown me to the wolves and all." 

Giles smiled widely, then quickly hid it as both of the other men gave him surprised looks. He passed it off by coughing abruptly and signaling to Ethan to follow him. "Come on sir, lets see if we can't find you those 'missing plates'". 

Riley watched them retreat for a moment more before stepping into his patrol car. Once in, he buckled his seatbelt and put a hand to his forehead, sighing. He couldn't believe it. What was happening to him? First he does something to make Buffy actually leave him on a moment's notice, and then he beats on a seemingly innocent man. He needed something to eat, and fast. 

* * * * * 

"Alright, so what did you do?" 

"What?" 

"What did you do to make him hit you? And keep on hitting you, in broad daylight no less?" 

"Honestly Rupert, I've no idea! I had no intentions of robbing a bank, you know that's not my style, and I come out, the mother is mumbling about some chic-" 

Giles waved his hand, uncomfortable to talk about it anymore. He hated to think that he was the reason that had pushed Riley to do something so crass and ugly, but he was nearly brimming with happiness from Buffy's rejecting her own boyfriend for him. As vulgar as he felt for thinking it, there was now only one person standing in between himself and the girl of a lifetime. He'd gotten from the gist of Buffy's conversation with Cordelia that Angel was back in town, and besides what Buffy said about certain circumstances, he knew that Angel's return to Sunnydale meant some serious opposition. 

"Alright, alright fine. A more important question is 'why are you here?'" 

Ethan stared at him for a moment, then breathed out slowly. _Odd, he only used to do that when-_

"You." 

Giles nearly swallowed his tongue. "Y-you came here for me?" 

* 

"Buffy! Hey Buffy, wait up!" 

She stood on the side of the street, not completely shocked at what she saw. Angel stood at the other end, dressed in a red and green Hawaiian shirt and tan khakis. He was actually wearing sandals! But the most interesting and surprising thing she noticed he wore was a smile. 

And what a smile it was, all his pearly whites shining brightly. 

"Hey! Notice anything different about me?" 

She ran a hand through her hair. Cordelia _had_ said one thing about him 'waking up one morning' that had disturbed her, but she couldn't remember the exact words. 

"Umm, which do you mean, demeanor or choice in attire?" 

It really didn't matter though. Of all the things she wasn't up for today, this had to be tops. She'd just killed her best friend's lover, or some demonic version of it…in any case, she didn't feel like she had enough- 

Sunlight. They both were standing in direct sunlight. _Oh my god…_

Angel had finally reached her from the other side of the street. 

"Neither, guess again." He frowned upon getting a closer look at her face. "Buffy, are- are you okay." 

_Ignore the question._ "Angel, we're standing in sunlight!" She tried her best a smile and ran to hug him. "When I was down in LA… you told me you destroyed the ring." 

* 

"I did. I mean, I don't expect you to answer right away, but Ripper-uh- Rupert I-I…" Ethan sighed in frustration, shaking his hands in the air as though he were holding a box, "I just, I think- I know, now I know I made some mistakes along the way and… I did a few things that drove you away." 

Giles nodded. "Like tying Buffy to a demon seeking your own soul? Like turning all of us into teenage morons with candy? Like overall trying to kill the people I care about many times." 

Ethan swallowed, his Adam's apple popping and laying back again. He pointed at Giles, but couldn't make direct eye contact. "Right, right, like that. But Rupert I-" 

"Why are you calling me that?" 

"What?" 

"Rupert. Why are you calling me that?" 

Ethan shrugged, a reckless grin on his face. "It-it's what you go by now, right. Your first name. I mean, I know it's w-who you are now and I'm-" 

"Ethan-" 

* 

"This can't be happening. You mean you really-" 

She hugged him again, putting her head against his chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump. She laughed as she continued listening, but eventually pulled herself away. 

"How did it happen?" 

Angel shrugged, the big grin still on his face. "It's a long story. One I'd love to tell, perhaps over… a mocha-chino?" 

He moved to put his arm around her. She didn't stop him, kicking herself inwardly for not doing so. Outwardly she kept the smile on. "I see you've tried some various beverages in this new state. Where are you staying?" 

He stooped slightly over her to smell her hair. "Hmm, nice. Right now I've moved back into the old house." 

She nodded, hating herself for being torn in 

* 

such mixed feelings. Ethan was sitting quietly on his own side of the car, completely silent since Giles had stated plainly that it wouldn't happen between them. He sighed, not wanting to end the relationship this way. Despite what Ethan had done, Giles couldn't deny that he still held deep feelings for the other man. 

"Ethan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"I can't tell you that I've changed much Ripper, I really can't. But don't tell me that there isn't that flame still burning inside you. I won't believe you." Ethan wouldn't look at him as he said this; his head still pressed against the window of the unmoving car. "I won't." 

Giles grimaced. "You're right. There is." Ethan looked back at him, their eyes meeting. "And I'm not going to tell you that I'm not acting on it. I am. As of right now I'm about to transport twenty million dollars worth of co-" 

Ethan lunged across at him from his side of the car, taking Giles' face in his hands and pressing their lips together. 

* 

Buffy opened her mouth slightly to lengthen the kiss, letting Angel's tongue meet her own, swirling them together. He pressed a little harder into her mouth and she still didn't object, adding pressure herself. She hated to admit it but even if she did decide to leave with Giles tonight, she wouldn't regret this moment. Not for 

* 

every second of his life he would regret this. He had promised himself to Buffy and what was he doing now? Ethan practically had his tongue down his throat. He wouldn't let this, couldn't let this happen. Ethan moaned in protest as he gently pushed him away, but he didn't fight it. Ethan stared longingly at him. 

"Take me with you Ripper, please. I need this, I need-" 

"No, I can-" 

"You, Ripper, I need you!" 

They sat back, staring at each other for a moment. Giles decided he had to tell him. 

* 

"No, Angel no." 

Angel stood back, shocked. Buffy had ended the kiss by roughly pushing him off of her. He looked hurt beyond words, breathing heavily with his hands outstretched as if to say that he meant no harm. 

"Wha-what?" 

She took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. 

"I can't- no I won't. Angel it- it's too late-" 

His eyes went wide. "Buffy, too late? C'mon, I can't help nor control the passing of time-" 

"And neither can I! I can't help what happens to people Angel. It's called change!" 

"BULLSHIT! I won't believe it!" 

She stepped back, stunned. 

"Buffy, do you know, do you have any idea what kept me going for so long? Do you know why I did all the things I did, why I protected and saved hundreds, no thousands of people from death?" 

She shook her head, a numb feeling coming over her. 

"You, Buffy. I did it so that I could hold you again, so that we could be together until we both ran out of time and expired, and then we could spend our afterlives together! But you know what? I'm an idiot! Not for one second did I consider the fact that hey, 'when you get back to her-" 

* 

"She may not want you! Ripper, she may be in the throws of heated passion with another right now as we speak." 

Giles said nothing, but simply let Ethan simmer. 

Ethan banged a hand on the dashboard so hard he thought he'd broken a knuckle for a moment. Worse, it didn't even dent the car. He opened the door, looking back at Giles as he did. 

"You know what? I hope she doesn't trample on you! I hope she doesn't have someone else that she finds more suitable a lover than yourself, because if she does you're going to have to realize exactly what and who you gave me up for! Goodbye 'Rupert Giles'!" 

He'd spit the name out as though it were a bad taste in his mouth. 

_Damn it!_ "Ethan, wait!" It was no good; the man was gone. 

* * * * * 

She hugged him as tightly as she could, not wanting to let go. Tears were in both their eyes, but neither wanted to let it show. 

"Buffy…who?" 

"…Giles." 

His heart had been at the breaking point, and that had cinched it. He stumbled, almost falling had it not been for Buffy. 

"I'm sorry-" 

"Please don't tell me that. Just… go away." 

He pushed her off of him. He almost let his feet go again but managed to upright himself in time. She shook her head. 

"Angel, I'm leaving tonight, I'm flying off and I am not coming back! Don't do this to me ag-" 

"NO! This time it's your turn Buffy, cause I'm not leaving this spot." 

He stooped down onto his knees. It didn't really matter, the street was practically clear of all pedestrians, but he still made his point. 

"You're going to have to walk away from me this time Buffy. See how hard it is to do. If you really feel nothing for me-" 

"Angel I do feel for-" 

"If you could give more and want more from that man than you do from me, if you think he'll strive to make you happier for all of your life… then walk away from me right now and don't look back." 

There were very few moments in his long and arduous life that hurt as much as watching her walk away from him then. 

* * * * * 

"Another, sir?" 

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Thanks." 

Wesley was trying to remember everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. It had all occurred so fast. 

After he had found Darien's 'present' in the garbage he'd gone to his hotel and put it together, testing it's length and weight in his hands. It just felt right, him holding it. 

He'd been so excited; he'd had two jobs! He also couldn't believe the blind luck of Daniel Osborne being in the same country at the same time! He'd come down for his first assassination of Lewis Trabewski, a business class guru who was making life difficult for some former compatriots in the states. But that was still a few days away. For now he'd found someone to practice on. 

His phone rang, disturbing his memory temporarily. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey man! How'd it go?" 

"For my first, very well I think. I was off target about an inch." 

"Side of the chrome?" 

"Right. He didn't go immediately, but it's not as though it took too long." 

"Relax Wes. I was off the mark with my third. So much so that he lived. Had to wait and take care of him for good after they took him out of ICU." 

Wesley smiled at this. It was good to see that there were decent people in the business. Darien wasn't one to hide his faults, nor to flaunt them. 

"Yes, well I believe I'm going to have a few more Dakari's and Martini's, then I'm going straight to my hotel and to bed." 

"Tired?" 

"…Not particularly." 

"Right. Well don't stay in Madras too long. Bad for the mind, all that dust." 

Wesley laughed. "Right. Thanks again Darien, for letting me use your ID to get my first customer." 

"Don't think twice about it man. Just get to Wennie's as soon as possible. Little Louie may not be here for very much longer." 

"Oh, I can guarantee that. But only at the end of my sight." 

"Nobody else's, babe." 

"Mr. Broody, you have a good night." 

"And the same to you, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. Oh, one more thing." 

"What's that?" 

"This could be the beginning of a-" 

"Please don't finish that sentence." 

Both laughing a little, they said good-bye once more before hanging up. The waiter came back with his Martini. Wesley was going to give him shit for taking so long when a shot rang out through the bar. 

Wesley drew his silenced pistol from the inside lining of his jacket and dove to the floor below, aiming at the source of the noise. His finger swayed slightly on the trigger. 

A group of thin, dark men in white robes and turbans met his gaze, all staring very frightened back at him, their hands in the air. One took a chance and pointed to the chair beneath him. 

"Voorzitten de baard in de keel hebben!" 

Wesley sighed. The man's chair leg had snapped. He put the gun away, waving his hand reassuringly at them. But just to be sure he sat at the other end of the table, watching the men out of the corner of his eye. 

Delving back into his memory, Wesley came up with when he'd sneaked into the abandoned church, a small briefcase in his hands. It had taken him a few minutes to find the very dusty entrance to the tower, but once he had it had all been like clockwork. He'd jumped between the rows of rotting and cobwebby pews, setting up his gun once he'd reached the other side. Opening the case, he'd slipped out the long body of the gun and set it next to a silencer and bullet casing. He'd felt it was safe enough to take the gun with him, so he'd entered the bell-tower. 

Once inside he'd traveled down the lengthy corridor and reached the other end to find a very strange contraption on a large table in front of him. Also on the table was a long rope leading upwards, tied to the slowly spinning device and another rope ladder. Ignoring the device Wesley had climbed the rope ladder as his watch signaled the hour to him. A few seconds later the bell above him also chimed three, nearly making him lose his footing and fall from sheer surprise. 

Once he'd recovered from the shock and ringing in his ears (the contraption must've been some sort of clock that automatically pulled the bell at appropriate times to chime the hours) Wesley had opened the trapdoor above him and crawled inside the small head of the tower. 

He'd spotted the other man immediately without the help of the sight of his gun. He stood about twenty feet below Wesley, letting the dust and wind swirl around him. The man made a sudden movement that caused Wesley to start momentarily until he saw that the other was merely stooping, working on something beneath him as the storm approached. 

Wesley had taken his time to set up and a short while later was watching the man through the scope of his sight, his trigger finger itching. He'd known that a professional would take the first good shot he could get if there wasn't much time, but Wesley had wanted more of a challenge than this. It had all been too easy. He at least wanted to give Daniel a fair chance to look at who was stalking and closing in on him, so he'd reached a foot over and kicked the bell roughly. 

The man had looked up and Wesley had had the oddest sense of dejavu. He got a fairly clear picture of the man's face (despite the dust and the man's wind-goggles) as he looked directly back at him, but he couldn't place it. He'd never been that good with faces. His shot had been broken off target when he saw the man start to smile. Had he not Wesley knew it would have been a clean bulls-eye to the middle of the forehead, but he wasn't complaining. 

By the time he looked up from his fifth Martini the bar was empty, save himself and the turbans he'd threatened earlier. He laughed quietly at his paranoid action, wondering if this was going to be how the rest of his life turned out until that one bullet with his name on it found it's place in the back of his head. He'd decided that's where it would go since he didn't think he was or would ever be so bad that he couldn't see death coming from inside his line of vision. 

Something the one turban had said to him struck Wesley as odd. 'Voorzitten.' Nothing wrong, it meant chair… in Dutch. Why would black men living in India wearing turbans be speaking Dutch? Wesley picked up his jacket and left the bar, avoiding the taxi that had magically appeared for him. He never went back to his hotel that night, instead choosing to wait until morning a couple streets across from it. He slept in an empty dumpster smelling strangely of roses. 

* * * * * 

The weight of Tara's body strained her muscles and an increasing amount of sweat was lining against her brow. Willow wasn't crying anymore, but with every step she took she fell into more and more of a state of despair. 

If only she'd listened to what Tara'd had to say! If only she'd had more faith… but it didn't matter. There was still something she could do, there was still something she could try to make all of this right again. 

Surprisingly few people were out on the streets of Sunnydale on this particular day, as was shone by the lack of anyone stopping to take notice of the girl carrying a lifeless body down the street. Though it's doubted that had they seen her anyone would have stopped anyway. 

* * * * * 

"A dozen please." 

"Roses? Good deal lady! I give a special just for you, twenty-five dollars." 

"Thanks!" 

Olivia slid her purse off of her shoulder and rummaged for a twenty and a five. Finding both after a moment she tossed them on the makeshift table, the scruffy man handing over the bright red roses. 

He shrugged. "It's off-season." 

She was walking across the street and back towards the apartment when it occurred to her that she and Giles had just been to the park the other day, looking at the flowers. She had seen the stand just sitting there and had summed it up to buying on impulse, but as she stood below a darkening sky holding a bouquet of roses, she began to reconsider the purchase. 

The other day she had finally told Giles what she wanted from him and they'd had an argument over it. He'd said that he didn't want to hurt her and she'd said that that was the point, that a certain amount of pain heightened the pleasure. Someone had once told her that pain was the most liberating of all the experiences one could have, and she believed it whole-heartedly. But Giles had said that he hadn't realized that he'd been going rough on her all along, that he'd always considered himself gentle when intimate. Then she'd reminded him of what he'd told her of his earlier days and he'd gone quiet. She hadn't liked that. 

Perhaps she'd been thinking too much of herself and not enough of him. Maybe he was doing the same. She wasn't sure, but she was determined to make it- 

A tall, dark man broke her train of thought when he'd bumped into her, knocking her to the ground. He didn't stoop to lend a hand, but instead kept on walking. She was going to let him go until she saw the flowers, some partially crushed underneath her and others with their thorns sticking out the side of her purple velvet coat. 

"Hey, you there!" 

He kept walking as though she didn't exist. She ran up to him and pushed him. He stopped, but her push didn't even cause him to stumble. 

"Hey, you asshole! Look at me when I'm talking to you." 

He turned around, and she saw that he was very handsome, but not as much as if his face hadn't been so puffed and if tears weren't lining his cheeks. Seeing this sight took more than a little fight out of her. 

"You're English." 

She nodded, eyeing him carefully. 

"S-so?" 

"I was English once. Guess that still makes me English but what the hell, I hate the English of today. Personally I wish you'd all just burn in hell." 

Her eyes widened, shocked. Strangely though, this only made her feel more pity for the man. 

"Wh-why would you say something like that to me? I've done nothing to you." 

He stood there and paused, breathing heavily and looking like he was deep in the midst of turmoil. 

"I know that." He shrugged. "I hate you anyway." And with that he began to walk away from her. 

Not one to be stood upon Olivia reached out and grabbed the lapel of his coat. Sighing he turned again. 

"So then you pushed me down on purpose?" 

He shook his head. "No, no I just wasn't looking wh- oh god. I need to go somewhere and get drunk." 

"No! No, drinking is never the answer to your problems." 

He threw his hands wide as if pleading with her. "What do you want from me lady? I'm sorry I pushed you down but you look okay to me. Just leave me be." 

"Yeah well, well you've ruined my roses." 

She pushed them in his face to show him so. He looked at them before sighing deeply again and looking back at her. "What do you want? I have no money on me." 

She figured he was lying seeing as how he was just planning on going somewhere to get drunk, and for drinking you need beer which costs money; but that wasn't what she wanted. 

"Why do you hate the English?" 

He nodded for some reason. "One of them is screwing my girlfriend. Well, used to be my girlfriend." He sat on the sidewalk and ran his hands through his hair. 

She sat next to him. "Did she just leave you for him?" 

He thought about that for a moment. "No, we never had a chance to get back together since I left her." He waved a finger in the air. "But I'd thought that true love could conquer all, and what we had was most definitely true. I thought she'd wait for me…" 

Both of them stared up at the sky for a while. The moon was just coming out, though the sky was still more blue then it was navy, except for the line of dark storm clouds forming around. 

"Who was it?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Who was the guy that took her from you?" 

"Her Watch- uh, some guy named Rupert." 

She stood up quickly as though something had bitten her. "Rupert?" 

He nodded, now slipping back into realizing what he'd just lost. "Yeah, Rupert. Rupert Giles-" 

"NO!" She yanked at her hair, stumbling a little and unaware of the shocked expression on his face. "It can't be! This isn't possible. That, that bastard!" 

Dropping the roses she ran off towards no certain destination. She just wanted to scream. 

* 

Angel watched as the black woman ran off. 

"Yeah… that's how I feel about him." 

"Not looking too good, stranger…" 

He looked quickly to his left, then stood at what he saw. "Darla!" 

She stood there, blood on a shirt he doubted had been hers, and smiled at him. He smiled back and stumbled towards her. 

"So-so I suppose you've come here to kill me?" 

She nodded. "You'd like that wouldn't you? For me to take the pain away? Sorry Angel, now my heart is beating too. I've been watching you for a while ya' know. And I like what I'm seeing." 

He stood back. "How did you get out?" 

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I woke up next to a dead priest." 

"You alive?" 

"Yeah…" 

Angel moved towards her, arms outstretched. "What was I supposed to do Darla?" 

"Get away from me." 

He didn't listen, grabbing onto her jacket and forcing his face onto hers. "What else was I supposed to do? I did every fucking thing I could!" 

She violently pushed him to the ground. "I said get the hell away from me." She sounded more disgusted than angry. 

Thunder rumbled above as he screamed at her. "She was everything to me! I worked to no end for one reason, and when I get back that bastard has just taken it away from me! IT'S ISN'T FAIR!" 

She reached down and slapped his face roughly, screaming back. "LIFE ISN'T FAIR ANGEL, GET OVER IT! Get a fucking helmet, you shit!" 

Angel shook his head, her words not quite reaching him. "There was nothing I wouldn't of done for her-" 

A light rain began to fall as Darla cupped his chin in her hand, forcing him to look in her eyes. "And there was nothing I wouldn't of done for you! I came back to America; I hunted after you and fed alongside you! Only while you were drinking from a pig or robbed blood banks I fed from the innocent! I waited Angel, and for what? Tell me that!" 

He shook his head, not quite understanding, pain etched on his face. 

"DEATH! You killed me Angel, or don't you remember, you worthless drunk!" 

He stood up, defensiveness taking place of his emotions. "I've been completely sob-" 

"For how long Angel? How long until you delve back into the bottle and suckle yourself lifeless, just like when I found you all those years ago? You were nothing and I made you something better! But now you're drowning back into what you were before, and I've got news for you! No one's gonna be there to take you in this time Angel. No one's gonna watch your back!" 

Had he not been so wrapped in his own turmoil, Angel would have been surprised to see that during her rant she had taken on more of a desperate tone than anything else. And now she stood before him. Waiting. 

"…I…I only want one word Angel. I only want one thing." 

Darla was on the verge of tears as she realized Angel wasn't listening anymore. She walked over placing her hands on his shoulders and shaking him. 

"Angel! Angel, ple-" 

He shrugged her off; his mind made up on something. He simply couldn't figure out what it was yet, but as the rain began pouring down harder he left Darla standing, a hurt expression on her face. He'd left her again. 

* * * * * 

Lawrence awoke with the rain. It fell down upon him from a hole in the ceiling, soaking his torn and twisted face, clinging to the outsides of his body, beading on the metal-incased portions of his skin. He blinked a few times, covering his eyes to protect them from the falling water. 

As he stood up he realized that he had no memory of anything after the operation had begun. They had gassed him and that was the last that he could think of. How long had passed. Where was he now? 

Blocks of charred metal stood around him. Bloodstains of varying colors covered the metallic walls. It looked as though some sort of epic battle had been fought here, though there were no bodies to prove that any such thing had occurred. 

A shuffling to his left made Lawrence jump; looking wildly for whatever had caused the noise. Something was behind what looked to have been a table at one point. He reached over and pulled it away. A woman was sleeping there, breathing heavily. Her face was covered in soot and she held a cheap plastic bag in her hands. He realized she must have been homeless… 

A small red glow was on her body. Ignoring this, he lightly shook her out of slumber. Clutching the bag even tighter the woman awoke and looked up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, both incredibly still. But when he made a move to put a hand forward and offer her help up she screamed, throwing her bag at him as though it were a weapon, then ran off still screaming when he backed away. 

Confused, Lawrence spit up a bit of bad taste in his mouth. This wasn't rain that was falling down from holes all in the ceiling; it was water, obviously contaminated. At a closer look he noticed the water spouted from broken fire-safety valves and water pipes, and that these tubes were surrounded by packed dirt. He was underground. As he made his way around, trying to discern one EXIT sign from the next, he kept seeing a red glow in spots everywhere. Then he caught his reflection going by in a broken mirror on the wall…and screamed. 

* * * * * 

"33068? 3-3-0-6-8…" 

"Yes?" 

"Get you're food…" 

Faith rolled off her bunk to walk the five feet to the cell bars and pick up the tray. Since the break-outs more and more cells had become empty in Orange County, and because Faith seemed to be cooperating the authorities had deemed it fit that she was to be moved to a state facility in Minnesota. But before this could happen she had to go through a transfer prison while waiting for the correct papers to be signed. 

She found it more than ironic that the minimum-security transfer prison she'd been sent to was located in Sunnydale. 

"Alright, call me when you're done." 

She furrowed her brow. "Why?" The question was asked in a deep, lustful manner. She didn't do it purposefully anymore; it was simply the way she'd grown accustomed to speaking. 

"Because I want the tray back girlie." 

"Oh… Right." This was odd; she was actually being given as long as she wanted to eat. Well, there's Sunnydale in a nutshell. She nodded her understanding and the figure walked away, footsteps echoing along the stone hall. 

………………… 

Faith was in a light slumber when it happened. At first she heard the roar of an engine, then the squeal of tires on asphalt; and the noise was getting closer by the second. Faith stood up from her bed and positioned herself by the bars, peeking out to get a look at what was going on by the front desk. 

A fan swung lazily above a polished redwood desk, stacked with pens and papers along with half eaten Chinese take-out. She knew the officer on duty had probably been snoozing himself, his feet on the desk and a hat over his head when the noise had occurred. Now though, he stood at the ready, gun drawn as he slowly circled the room, listening for even the slightest inclination that whatever had been there still was. The deputy saw her watching him and shrugged back at her as if to say '_beats me_.' 

"Look out!" 

She had just enough time to warn him when she'd seen the very large object lumbering dangerously close towards the building at breakneck speeds. From her view in the cell she could just barely make out the front door. 

The officer looked behind himself and screamed, diving out of the way just in time to narrowly avoid being crushed when the big van rammed through the glass entrance, a billowing cloud of smoke rising in it's wake. The smoke was extremely fast moving and was flooding the entire building… Because of this Faith could only see the outline of the form jumping out of the car and pointing a gun at the deputy. 

It was only when she heard the officer coughing loudly that she realized the smoke must have been tear gas. Volatile chemicals that were at this moment streaming down the hall towards her. She heard keys jingling and footsteps approaching, then out of the rising wall of gas a figure appeared, a high-tech facemask protecting him. He shoved another through the bars at her as he began to unlock the holding cell. 

Not having to be told twice she put the mask over her hair and face, making sure it fit tightly before using a thumb at the neck of the mask to flick on the filter. She'd seen these before. The mysterious savior pulled her out after unlocking the door, both of them running down the hallway as fast as they could. Once the reached the van (reading "Sunnydale Crisis Control" on it's side) he pulled out a pair of pliers and snipped the lines connecting the gas propellers to the bumper, then stuck them under a tarp in the back. Closing the back doors he leapt inside, signaling for her to do the same. 

But all Faith could focus her attention on was the body of the man on the floor. Through the vision of her mask she could see him inside the mist, lying on the floor. Memories of other bodies flooded back through and from the recesses of her psyche. Some demons, others…not. 

A hand grabbed her shoulder, startling her. She heard his voice through the sockets of the filter, making him sound grainy and mechanical. He'd probably set it that way so that no one would recognize his voice either. 

"I just knocked him out. Let's go." 

She nodded through the black gas mask and entered the van shotgun. 

As he pulled them out of the wreckage, streetlights glimmering like freedom in the soon-to-be-night sky, she knew she'd never get that chance again. 

* * * * * 

"You bitch! You heartless, self-centered, cruel beyond words whore of a BITCH! GOD DAMN YOU!" 

"Oh what, what else could I do? You were goi-" 

"Don't give me that crap-" 

"You didn't even let me finish, I was saying that you were going to leave-" 

"Leave you, yes I know, but I wasn't…Jesus, I would've given you everything! But you know, maybe I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I changed that lock two months ago! The idiot you sent after me had to sneak in through the attic!" 

Anya was amazed. She'd never made Xander this angry before. Sure they'd had their fair share of arguments, (well probably more, since he was human and had been so all his life) but it was nothing like this. She hadn't really considered what his reaction would be had he survived. 

"And that's another thing Anya, a pitchfork is not a good weapon if you want to make it look like a failed robbery!" 

She placed her hands on her hips. Like he would know. "Really, fine. What would have been?" 

He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "God, I don't know, a GUN maybe?" 

She bit her lip. "I had considered that." 

He only stared back at her for a second before screaming again. She moved over to the couch and sat down, watching as he started to pace in front of her. Outside, thunder rumbled as lighting struck some certain point in the distance. 

"I-I mean how did you expect to get the money?" 

Anya looked up at him as though he wasn't all there. "Well, duh. Once they saw that you had died it would go to me." 

His eyes widened in disbelief, his hair falling over his eyes and his muscles bunching through his shirt as he breathed heavily. Anya unwittingly matched his breathing. She was actually getting a little turned on by his crazy demeanor. 

"Why? Because you date me?" 

"Yes, because I date you. I've dated you for a good long while." 

He stooped, placing his elbows on her thighs and his hands on her waist. 

"Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean the money goes to you!" 

"It doesn't?" 

"No, we have to be married for that to work." 

Her eyes brightened and she grinned. "Really? Let's get married!" 

He stood back up, gritting his teeth in frustration. "I don't believe this! You really want to kill me!" 

"No I don't, I just want the money!" 

He took her completely by surprise when he slapped her. 

* * * * * 

"Hey, Blondie!" 

She turned, rain falling down faster and harder as the night drew on. Spike stood not five feet from her, standing in the middle of the road. 

"Oh not you! I don't have the time or the patience Spike!" 

"Oh-oh, I'll beg to differ pet! I've got some very interesting news for you! I found this out when some piss-drunk truck driver kicked me in the bar today…" 

She sighed, but the way he was grinning at her did strike her as a bit funny. Not funny like '_ha-ha_', more funny as in a '_please don't feed the animals_' kind of way. "What?" 

He stopped smiling, a little annoyed. "I said that I begged to differ, that I've got-" 

"Yeah, no I heard that bit. I meant 'what' like 'what do you want', not 'what, I can't hear you'." 

"Oh… Well see now you've taken all the fun out of it." 

He stepped towards her, both of them now standing directly under the shine of the red-orange street-lamp. She almost felt like backing up, but this was Spike. 

"Taken the fun out of what?" 

"This." He punched her so hard she slammed against the wood of the post, shocked as a bit of blood from inside her now broken lip began to trickle down and mix in with the rain. 

He shook his hand a bit from the pain and laughed at her confusion. "No actually, that was still pretty damn amusing!" 

Not wasting time questioning him on his newfound reacquired abilities, she launched a roundhouse kick at his head. He whooped with enjoyment as he grabbed her leg in mid-air, lifting it up and yanking, knocking Buffy off her feet. Once down and a bit winded, she saw him advancing on her. She placed both feet in the air and kicked forward, connecting with his chest and watching as he sailed through the air and back into an alley at the edge of the street corner. 

Jumping up and running over to join him she was surprised to see that he had vanished. All she saw was a black, unbroken window two stories up and a few stacks of crates, the biggest of which standing next to- He barreled into her, jumping off the crates and throwing them both to the ground. He was up first, and Buffy cried out in pain as Spike yanked her to her feet by the wet ponytail and slammed her against the gray brick wall. 

Seeing he was rushing up to her she backed up slightly, then took a jump at the wall, running up the side as he ran beneath her, then vaulting off and sailing through the air to land where he had stood. She heard him grunt in appreciation for the move before she drove both fists into his face, crushing him against the wall and leaving him dazed momentarily. 

At least long enough for her to land four more punches to his abdomen and a sweep to his feet with her own, causing him to fall to the wet ground below. Taking advantage, Spike rolled towards her as she lifted one leg to step on his neck, throwing her off balance and into a large puddle. So large that Spike could turn her over; shove her face roughly into the murky water and begin to suffocate her inside it. Which is exactly what he was trying and succeeding at doing until she lifted an elbow up roughly, slamming it into his jaw and pushing him off of her. She gasped for air, grinning madly as she saw through shades of purple and red the he was bleeding heavily from the hit. 

Unfortunately she overestimated his shock at the blow, leaving her mid-drift completely unprotected as she tried to lift herself to her feet. Spike kicked forward with both legs from his position on the ground, driving them onto her and making her fly to her left and curl up in pain. Grinning, he got back on his feet, wiping at his torn lip and moving towards her, stumbling slightly. Lifting his arm he started to dive down onto the cowering girl when she suddenly shot her feet up in the very first move he'd fallen for, only now there was nothing to break his fall save for the crates and a wall. At which he promptly broke through them, landing on his ass amidst a barrage of dead and rotting fruit. 

Also still sitting on the ground, Buffy considered making a move for the broken pieces of wood he'd made, but she realized there was more than one reason they'd fallen apart so easily, despite the power of the kick. The wood was completely rotted through, not to mention soggy. It probably wouldn't even break the skin. 

Both of their watches beeped the hour. 

They stayed where they were, breathing heavily; neither moving nor leaving the others gaze. After what felt like an hour, Buffy spoke first. 

"You got somewhere to be, Spike?" 

He brought his hand up to his mouth, nodding as wiped more blood away. 

"You?" 

She nodded back. "Limited time offer." 

He shrugged, wiping a bit of crushed guacamole of his leather jacket. "We could continue this at a…later date." 

"We certainly could. I'm sure I'd find and kill you eventually." 

He laughed. "I have the same fate in mind for you, Slayer." 

They both rose to their feet, weary of the other. "So seeing as how we're at an agreement, we'll just walk away from each other now." 

"Right…At the same time and all." 

Buffy brushed off her leather pant legs. "Count a three." 

They both took deep breaths and, seeing the other was doing so as well, cut them short. 

"1…2…3!" Neither moved until they realized what they were doing. With a sigh, Buffy and Spike forewent the dramatics and simply walked away from each other. Both vowed silently that one-day they would meet again. For the last time. 

* * * * * 

Joyce rode along the slick wet pavement, dangerously close to the ditch alongside the road. Her black Jeep had seen it's fair share of accidents, though nothing too bad had happened to it. Yet… in Sunnydale she knew you could never be too careful. 

She hummed along to a vaguely familiar tune but her heart wasn't really in it. She'd quit her job today, that being the highest point of pleasure she'd had in a while. Though she wasn't sure what she'd do with the rest of her life, Joyce certainly wasn't going to spend it all wasting away in Sunnydale. Besides, it was worth it just to see that asshole of an art director's face when she'd finally told him what she thought of him and his 'valued work place'. 

A brilliant flash of lightning struck a tree branch a few hundred yards away, scaring her half to death and forcing her to pull off the road in shock. She couldn't get the ringing out of her ears and pressing her hands to them didn't help. But one thing did bring her out of it after a moment or at least put her concentration elsewhere. It was the oddest thing. When she'd pulled over she gone slightly in the ditch, and because of this she was now facing at a downward angle. 

There, lying in the ditch, every time lightning struck (and as the storm raged it did so often) she could swear she saw the body of a child. Opening the door risking the large, cold raindrops and chill wind, Joyce ran for the long dip in the surface of the ground, slipping slightly in the wet dirt and mud as she reached it. She had to quickly reach out and support herself by putting her hands in the mud. She slid down the embankment, caring less and less about her jeans as she ran for the body, rain absolutely soaking her. 

The water level was rising by the minute and the kid was on it's side, half his face covered in the murky filth when she finally reached him and pulled him out. She could see he was smeared all over and noticed that he was without clothing beneath the tattered brown robe he wore. Joyce was lowering her lips to his for mouth to mouth when his eyes opened and he smiled a little, looking at her. She picked him up from the ground, almost smiling back as she started to carry him. 

As they passed under another tree while crawling back up the side of the ditch another source of lightning struck it, and Joyce could hear they air frying around them. Something was going down...she just hoped she could get him into the car and to safety outside of Sunnydale before whatever it was struck. 

Placing him inside, Joyce went around back to the driver's seat and hopped in, starting up the car and screeching the tires as she sped off into the night. Soon she'd enter the midsection of town and then she planned on taking the exit out. Her bags were already packed and she had her traveler's checks in her wallet. At first she'd planned on taking a plane, but as she looked down at the small bundle sitting next to her she decided that there was nothing wrong with taking the bus. Maybe they'd go to New York for a while. 

She almost laughed at herself. _The boy had to have parents, right? Then again…_ she glanced nervously at him. _No. No way_. He looked as though he'd barely survived since birth, and he seemed to be about six or seven now. No one would let their kid turn out looking like that. And if they did they didn't deserve to be parents. She smiled for the first time in along time, her mind made up. She'd keep him for herself. He'd be much better off with her than no one. She just hoped that her luck with kids had changed. That this one wouldn't have to fight demons. It was a silly thought, but she considered it nonetheless. 

………………… 

Collin looked at the women strangely. Why was she doing this for him? He'd hid out in a barn and waited for nightfall, trying to discern what had happened to the priest. He couldn't remember. Unfortunately he'd fed off a horse once night did come, and apparently that hadn't been the wisest of ideas. He'd fell down from exhaustion (and perhaps blood poisoning) eventually. 

But now there was a woman. Someone who kept smiling at him and petting him as she drove in the car. She'd even turned the radio on and was presently singing along in earnest. He bared his teeth a bit with out actually changing, imagining what her neck would taste like. 

She reached a red light, stopping the car a bit and tapping the steering wheel while waiting for it to change back. He took this as an opportune time to try her out when he looked into her eyes. Seeing that he was awake she turned, narrowly missing his true form as he morphed back. 

Her eyes. Just like his mother's. So full of loneliness, and yet they also held within an undying sense of hopefulness. He realized that she had saved him for herself. Backing away and sitting in his seat, he contemplated what he would do. Eventually she would find out that his heart didn't beat, that his blood didn't flow and that he couldn't rise with the sun. In fact she would learn this quite soon. 

But he didn't want to kill her. She reminded him too much of his own mother whom he missed more than anything. So he decided as he curled up next to her, allowing her to place an arm around him in comfort, that they'd feed off each other, gaining happiness if only for the shortest amount of time. Perhaps he wouldn't have to kill her at all. He hoped that would be the case… 

* * * * * 

"Freak!" 

"Monster! Monster!" 

"Run away!" 

Lawrence hurried down the street, no certain destination in mind. All he knew was that he had to get out of this town. People were shouting at him, screaming and running. Not that he could blame them; he would have done the same himself. He wanted to do the same now, but one of the hardest facts there are to face is that you can't run from yourself. He'd have to do something, but what was there to do? 

He was a monster, metal plating and glowing red eye to boot. There was nothing he could do about it but run. What kind of life would a freak such as him be able to lead? There were no others like him out there, he knew that what happened to him was created by the government. What he'd become… 

Suddenly he stopped running, his eyes searching the unknown streets around him. There was one thing, one way out. If he could simply find it, there might be a chance of escape. Lawrence ran in no certain direction, but with a destination in mind. 

* * * * * 

..........."Shit!" 

The sudden outburst made Parker swerve slightly. After about a mile or so they'd taken their masks off and had until now been seated in complete silence. He was about to strike up a conversation himself, but was thankful he hadn't had to. 

"What?" 

"You do realize that I'll never have a chance at that again, right?" 

He furrowed is brow in confusion, making a quick glance at her before turning his gaze back to the traffic. It was fairly light tonight, but you never know. 

"What are you talkin' about?" 

"I'd almost done it man, I'd almost paid back for what I'd done! At least I was on my way!" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

She sighed. "Never mind, they'll never let me back in anyhow. It doesn't matter." 

Realizing the light directly ahead was turning red, he took advantage and screeched to a halt, then placed his elbow the steering wheel and watched her. 

"What? Back into jail? Big fucking whoop!" 

She shook her head and laughed. 

"Don't do that to me! Don't you laugh at me! The least you could've done was thank me, but I didn't even hear that." 

"What's your name?" 

He started the car back up once the light turned to green. "Parker." 

"Do you realize Parker, that within three years I might've been able to get out on parole with good behavior? Three years. Then I could've...I could've had a normal life...I could've been normal." 

"NORMAL? Who the fuck wants to be normal! You're a demon hunter, or whatever. I know that you and Buffy- I mean I think I know all about you guys and the last thing I expected to hear from you is that you wanted to be normal!" 

Silence. 

"Well, you know what? You want a normal life, that's fine girl, we can turn this baby around and I can drop you back in Sunny-fuck-me-in-the-arse-dale right now!" 

"No, look I'm not going back to jail. I don't want that. Okay, what you did for me, I appreciate it that you think that much of me, really. I'm sorr-" 

"Hey look, don't apologize okay, a simple thank you would say it all-" 

"But I'm not who you think I am anymore! I don't want anybody to get hurt...a-as a result of my actions, and going back would only make things worse..." 

He tapped the steering wheel, considering what she'd said. "You're choice. You're life." 

..........."Where're we headed?" 

"The airport. I gotta a friend of a friend who's father gives charity to a monastery somewhere in India. I worked it out with them; they'll offer you protection from the law. I had been planning on waiting and taking the next flight after you, but it doesn't seem...appropriate now." 

She laughed again, this time in genuine humor. He smiled; glad that he could make her do so. 

"So, once you land you'll be on your own, you know get there yourself and all...but I gotta map that should be able to help you out." 

She nodded. "Okay." 

After another moment of silence, Faith leaned over and kissed him. 

More surprisingly was the fact that he didn't wreck the car from her doing so. When she pulled back she smiled at his shocked but pleased expression. 

"Thanks Parker..." 

He grinned. "Apology accepted." 

She sat back in her seat. "Got any money you can spare?" 

Without taking his eyes off the road he nodded and withdrew his wallet from inside his pants pocket and flipped it at her. "Thought you'd ask. Take the credit cards, they should be good for another year or so." 

Not one to discourage such a generous offer, Faith cleaned out his black leather-skin and slid over to put it back in his pants for him. 

"How long till we reach the plane?" 

"Bout another ten, fifteen minutes." 

"...........Heard any good jokes lately?" 

* * * * * 

"NO! Angel, we can still do this, it is in you!" 

"Cordy, I'm weak. Worse, I'm human. There is absolutely nothing I can possibly do. We can't go back to the savior business. Besides, have you been getting anymore visions?" 

"…No, I haven't." 

"Right. I think we both know why. Our job is done. They're through with us." 

"Well, Dammit, I'm not through with them! I gave up the greatest opportunity-" 

"Cordelia, please stop talking about that. You're giving me a headache." 

"…Where are you Angel?" 

"I'm not sure. I'm just walking right now." 

"…She doesn't deserve you-" 

"Please, it's the other wa-" 

"No, no Angel it isn't! Anybody that would give you up, even for a second, doesn't deserve to have you." 

"It's my own fault." 

Cordelia broke into tears, frantically trying to get him to understand what she was saying. "Listen to yourself, this isn't you! Just look for a sign around you. A landmark, anything. I can come pick you up. We can leave toge-" 

"Cordy, I have to go." 

"Angel you bastard, I love y-" 

_/Click/_ Against the dead line, crying can be heard. 

* * * * * 

Ethan had been drinking. A lot. Three empty beer bottles rolled around on the floor below him. 

All right, so Giles didn't want him. That was fine, he'd fly back to England without a chip on his shoulder. Perhaps he'd kill someone. Yes, he'd like that. He'd go to one of the local pubs, pick up a hooker and fuck her brainless before slitting her throat. Or even better, beating her to death. But even at these thoughts, he couldn't bring himself to smile. 

* 

Riley had summed it up to luck, pure and simple. Luck was a commodity. Something that stay's until it is used up, then is gone until more can be attained. Riley had used up all of his luck, and things could only go downhill from here. He'd have to ride it out or take it in trade. 

Rain fell hard on his patrol car. He'd left the Jerries off but had his red and blue's streaming. He'd parked his car next to a Dunkin' Donuts and had finished off an entire box, but he was still a bit hungry. The donut shop was closed now. Maybe he'd go find a bar somewhere. No, he had to go home. Be the responsible cop. Be the safe man. 

The funny thing with bad luck is that you never know when it will strike or how bad it's gonna be. All you do know is that it's there, waiting to bite your ass hard. He rummaged around under a few papers in his glove compartment and found his gun, which he quickly and carefully set on safety. He wondered how long he'd have to do this for. 

The car slammed into his own with a force that plowed him into the steering wheel, making him scream as he heard and felt one of his ribs crack. A loud explosion erupted and he saw a piece of flaming bumper fly over his windshield. Prying himself off of the steering wheel he noted that he'd have to ask the Chief for more airbags in the cars. 

He got his gun and turned off the safety, cringing in the searing pain inside his chest. Luck be damned, he was going to kill someone tonight. Opening the car door he stepped out to see the occupant of the other car doing the same. His own car wasn't in that bad of condition (the trunk was pushed in a bit, but it looked otherwise fine) but the hitter's car was totaled. He crossed his chest with his right arm, aiming the gun with his left as he stumbled towards the other man, obviously drunk and trying to crawl of his window. A flash of lightning revealed him to Riley. 

"YOU!" Riley pulled Rayne of the car by his hair and threw him to the dark, wet pavement below. Still having a hand grappled to the back of his head, the Englishman screamed as Riley mercilessly slammed his face into the dried tar repeatedly. Once Riley was satisfied the amount of blood gushing from the man's mouth and nose he pulled him to his feet and began dragging him towards the back of his car. 

"Gfuh-gyafucker! Ybroke-ma-fackin-nose! SHIT!" 

Riley laughed; unlocking the trunk and cringing in pain as he pushed Rayne towards it, letting him go. The man held one hand to his nose and brought a Colt Python up with his other, aiming it at Riley. Riley did the same with his own standard issue Smith & Wesson. 

"Get in the trunk mother-fucker!" 

"Fak' you!" 

Riley fired his gun, easily blowing Rayne's out of his hand. 

The Brit put his hands up in the air, wincing at the water splashing down to his badly broken nose. He spit out a large wad of blood and two broken teeth from his mouth, hitting pointblank on Riley's soaked blue inform. Riley fired another round at his leg, shattering bone. Rayne cried out in pain, falling down. Riley blinked, thinking that he had just gasped without moving his lips. 

The cop stooped, pressing the gun to his head. "Don't think I won't do it! Get in the fucking trunk!" 

He wouldn't, choosing instead to stare up at him, holding his leg and crying out as another loud bolt of thunder struck. Riley nodded, cocking the gun. "NOW!" 

He hopped in, at which point Riley closed and locked it, breathing heavily and wondering if he'd burn in hell for what he'd just done. 

* 

Olivia cried heavily, sobbing into her wet handkerchief. She didn't know what she was going to do. Giles, carrying on a tryst with Buffy behind her back? For how long? It didn't matter. He might as well be dead now for all she cared. 

Walking down the sidewalk, her approach masked by the roar of the rain; she came upon a cop car streaming brilliantly in the night. A policeman was hunkered over another other man. She gasped as she realized what was going on. That poor man! Was she going to help him? How could she? 

It took her until the cop had put the keys back in his pocket to get enough courage to jump on his back, putting her arms around his neck. Surprised, the man dipped forward, easily tossing her off of him. She hit the wet pavement with a '_thwap_' and looked up at him. He was staring back looking befuddled at her. Before he could do anything to her she reached a fist up and punched him in the chest. She was shocked when he gargled up blood and fell back, writhing on the ground. After a moment though he fell silent, arms sinking into the rising water of the street. 

Pausing, she carefully and slowly reached a hand for the keys in his pocket. Sliding them in she could have sworn he shuddered, and she finally got a good look at his face. Hadn't she seen the man before? Her fingers met steel and any thoughts of recognition vanished as she pulled them out. A ring of them. Damn! 

Splashing back to the car she knocked on the hood then put her ear to it. Muffled speech came from within. "J-JUST HANG ON," she yelled back, "I'VE GOT HIS KEYS!" …nothing… "KNOCK ONCE IF YOU UNDERSTAND!" A single knock could be heard. She smiled in relief. The first key didn't fit. 

Neither did the second, but the third raised her spirits when it slid in. 

* 

Ethan had found a cloth in the trunk and was trying his best to clean himself up. That bastard cop hadn't done to much to his mouth (he'd broken out two teeth near the front and had severely cut the lip, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed) but he was having trouble breathing. His nose hurt like a cherry bomb had exploded within it, and was bleeding like that as well. When the woman started calling out to him he had been extremely relieved and had pressed his ear to the trunk lid just to catch what she was saying. He knocked once when she'd asked and knew she'd heard when she started fitting keys into the lock. 

He'd expected that getting shot in the leg would've hurt a lot more than it did, but once he'd done as best he could with his nose and mouth he'd wrapped the cloth around the entry wound and was now more focused on the pain in his nose. He grinned as a solid '_thump'_ was heard on the other side. If she hadn't already killed him, he was going to cut the fucking cop's balls off and making him eat them. No one got the better of Ethan Rayne twice in one day. 

The trunk opened and he smiled up at the figure. "Dank de devil-" He gasped as lightning struck, revealing a blue uniform covered in blood. There was a body in it's hands which promptly landed next to him as he threw it in and slammed the trunk again. Ethan screamed.   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Okay, that's all for now. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! The next part is of course the climax which will be much shorter, I promise. Also it will be out sooner as this took me a good while to complete because of its length. Please Review, I need to know how badly I suck! Note: This section of the story was finished a week after I released the original, but certain circumstances have prevented me from releasing this section until now. Thanks to all those who waited so patiently! 

**_Lyle Brown_**


	3. Climax

  
Title: Cheese: An Experiment in Fate

Author: Lyle Brown (LyleMHD) HTML Coding: Vandaline Z. Terrice

Summary: Cheese. Oh, for the sake of some cheddar, I've prepared each slice to get cut by my knife, and it's brought me to my current momentum, whereupon each slice can be compared with my life. And I know your patience to be shorter; I can't bring myself to cut the cheese, even when it's corroding roaches, I've got to care for the fleas. Hey, the third and (in my opinion) best part is here! Enjoy! Note that while no one is a main character, some do have bigger parts than others. Sorry.

Time Period: Alternate Universe, few spoilers (all seasons)   
Disclaimer: I own nothing. What I'm doing with these characters is very, very wrong; I know. Sorry again.   
Rating: Hard R. Sex, murder, drugs, lotsa violence. It's a story for the whole family!

Feedback- I love it. If you want to give me a happy, just write to me at RedTower@myrealbox.com, or review if that's how it goes. Flame me if you like, it gets kind of lonely here. Hell, correct my spelling and grammar if it tickles your yurt. Just don't tell me about my fragment sentences.   
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Well, here it is. The moment I've been looking forward to writing so much. And after seventy-five previous pages, I'm damn sure ready for a change in pace. So here's some high-octane action for you! 

Cheese: An Experiment in Fate   
by Lyle Brown   
Part 3: Climax 

Here we go again…   


_June 19th- June 20th_

Thunder struck and winds howled. This storm was to mark the end of the small town in California known as Sunnydale. But it was not the storm itself that would destroy the town. It was what the storm held within it's blustery grasp... 

* * * * * 

Buffy ran down along the rain-filled street towards Giles' house. In a small bag across her shoulder she held a few days worth of clothing, a couple of stakes, some of her favorite weapons and Mr. Gordo. She figured it was all that she would need. She crossed Burbank, feeling slightly better with every step she took. She didn't love Giles; they both knew that. At least she didn't right now unless it was in a friendship sort of way. But she wanted more, and she thought that perhaps Giles could be the one to give to her what Angel could not. 

A very loud explosion rocked the street left of her, pulling Buffy out of her thoughts. Turning, she ran around _Jim's Steak and Ale_ to see a car on it's back, fire roaring as it sat there. She frowned._ How the hell did that happen?_

Checking to make sure no one she could save was trapped inside, she continued on her way. What else could she of done? Exploding cars weren't in her detail of work. But Buffy was unable to return to thinking about her life as she examined the sky above...and screamed. 

* * * * * 

Spike ran as fast as he could, his feet slapping in the water, his mind racing even faster as he tried to think of what he could do to get out of this mess. Explosions hit to his left and right, and screams from the other occupants in Sunnydale were filling the streets. 

Making a turn too fast in the darkness, Spike slipped and fell, smashing his face into the thick, red puddle. _Thick, red?_ He wiped his face, licking the tainted mixture off of his palm. Sure enough, blood was in the water. This particular stream of rainwater he'd fallen in was moving west, so... 

He glanced to his east and shuddered. A dog was crushed underneath a heap of metal and glass, it's flesh and fur charred, it's eyes melting out of it's skull. He got to his feet and continued running as another one of them hit the spot where he'd just been. He felt the fire burning at his back. He hoped to make it to her in one peace. 

* * * * * 

Faith pressed her fingers to the cool glass of the plane window, sitting in a first class seat courtesy of Parker. Soon she'd be in the air, finally getting away from whatever power, whatever spell Sunnydale had put down upon her. She didn't like the idea of being alone for the rest of her life and she hoped that one-day people would forget about her and all that she'd done. For now though, as unfortunate as it may have seemed, she was on her own. 

"Are you alone?" 

She nodded to herself, whispering in a voice that no one would hear. "Very much so…" 

"Excuse me? Miss, is anyone else sitting here?" He asked as though he were spelling it out to a child. She looked up, examining the blond young man looking down at her. She smiled a bit at his impatience with her. 

"I don't know Mr. Smith, I just got here." 

He frowned, unsure of what to do; a gray canvas-bag in one of his hands. "So no one else is here, I mean you didn't come here with anybody?" 

She smiled again and nodded. "Yes actually, I did come here with someone." 

He stared down at her. "Well then why didn't you tell me-" 

"But he's not coming on the plane." 

"Wha-...Ah, screw it." He sighed and put his bag in the compartment above them, then sat down next to her. "Alright, anybody asks, this is my seat. Says so on my ticket." 

She nodded. "Got it, big boy. Just one question; why don't you sit in the seat that's really listed on your ticket?" 

He shook his head, looking nervously around him. "Cause I don't have a ticket." 

"Then how did you get on board?" 

He stopped looking around and glanced back at her before pushing his forefinger to his lips. "Shh, it's a secret." 

Before either of them could say anything more, a man in a security uniform ran on board flashing his ID at the stewardess and whispering in her ear. Both Faith and the mysterious passenger watched on curiously. The stewardess's eyes grew very wide and she nodded, the guard disappearing back out of the plane as she closed and secured it. Then she stopped another stewardess and whispered to her. That woman had the same reaction and ran off inside the cockpit. Meanwhile, the first woman smoothed out her dress and smiled nervously. 

Faith leaned close to the man. "This your work?" 

He shook his head, smirking curiously. "I don't think so…" 

"Uh, hmm-mm, ladies and gentleman, our flight we'll be starting a bit earlier than usual today as we've been informed that certain towns in the area are experiencing some, uh, weather difficulties and, well we'd just like to get out of it before it hits us. So if you'll, uh just turn any laptops or other electrical equipment off and make sure you're trays are in an upright position, we can get started!" 

Faith shook her head, examining one of Parker's credit cards. 

"Benton." Faith looked up. The man had his hand put forth towards her. She shook it. 

"Faith." 

He nodded, smiling. "Well Faith, looks like we're in for an interesting ride." 

Faith was now transfixed with the view outside her window. In the night sky she could see that only a few miles past the airport's entrance, right on the boundary of Sunnydale, hundreds of very large objects were falling from the sky. Still watching, she replied, "It certainly does…" 

* * * * * 

Riley laughed. He couldn't believe his luck. Tara turning into a demon and attacking him, Buffy leaving him trashed, going King on an almost innocent man (_twice_), nearly killing him the second time, and to top it off knocking some chick out of her head. And now he was dying. He'd known that luck could go bad quickly, but this was ridiculous. What was happening to him? He'd decided that it would be best to try and reach the local hospital and get both of his captures inside along with himself. He knew he'd lose his job for what he'd done to them, and probably worse. But it was better of an ending than any of the other scenarios he'd considered. 

He wiped a bit of the blood from his mouth as he tried to keep a steady grasp of the wheel. His breath came in short, wheezy gasps and he knew he didn't have much energy left. If he didn't make it to Sunnydale Memorial in the next ten minutes... Suddenly a small object appeared in darkness of the sky about eighty yards up ahead. 

Riley frowned and slowed the patrol car in spite of his injuries. _What the hell is that?_ It was white and getting larger by the second. His gaze completely focused on the falling object, he momentarily forgot about his injuries. _I-is that a... a car?_

BOOM! Riley tried to scream at the loud explosion as the white van hit the pavement but ended up spewing a large amount of blood onto the interior of the windshield. Since his vision of the outside was now obstructed by the red liquid running down in front of him, Riley hit the brakes and turned the wheel harshly, pulling the vehicle in a tight fish-tail, gurgling as he did so. 

As soon as he pulled to a stop, Riley pulled out his gun from his holster (though what good it would do him he didn't know) and opened the door, stepping out into the rain. He'd already been soaked to the bone, so the falling water didn't bother him that much. 

But had he really seen what he thought he had? Had a car really just fallen out of the sky in front of him? There had to be some logical explanation… He jumped at a sudden clap of thunder, turning quickly and bringing up his gun. Nothing. He blinked, rainfall hitting against his pale face and eyelashes. 

Something was entering his ears. Some sound... _screaming?_ He shuddered, holding his hand to his chest and realizing that if he didn't get moving soon, he may fall down in the street from exhaustion and die right there. Walking back to the car, though, he was now sure that something was screaming. Trying to pinpoint the sound, Riley reached his vehicle. 

The small compact Ford was on it's back when it slammed down onto his black and white. On either side of him about ten more cars also exploded to the earth, erupting in fire. When the Ford hit it crushed the top of his car flat, blowing glass out of the window, many of the shards entering his flesh and uniform. Unfortunately, he had been stooping and holding his chest instead of standing upright, so many small pieces hit him pointblank in the face and eyes, blinding him. 

He flew back from the force of the car topping his own, slapping to the wet ground and writhing in pain, jamming his fingers into his eyes to try to get out the glass, but actually pushing them in further. This time a scream did break free from his throat, and his mind soared in the pain. 

Riley heard the cars exploding all around him and didn't know what to do. He couldn't think straight from all of the pain encompassing the entire upper portion of his body. Thinking madly, he realized that Rayne and the girl were still in the back. The Ford hadn't exploded when it hit and still hadn't, otherwise he would've had the freedom of death kissing his bloody lips. He got up on his knees, gritting his teeth together to cut back from simply screaming until he did die and listened to all of the blasts as cars were destroying everything around him. 

Putting a hand forward it only took him a few moments to feel his way to the smoothness of his ride. He continued left, seeing only darkness but knowing that everything was still around him, and that less than three feet away, two people were either lifeless bodies or extremely scared and still breathing. He got the keys out of his pocket as soon as he felt the end of the car and the top of the bumper, miraculously untouched. If any other kind of car had hit his own… 

Feeling around for the keyhole, Riley heard nothing inside of the trunk. Not a good sign, but then again, who could hear much with the roar of falling cars and rain and thunder? The rain was such a consistent factor that his hands were wet enough to let the keys slip out from between his fingers. 

"DAMMIT, GOD NO!" Riley screamed, feeling the ground beneath him. But he knew he wouldn't find them. Couldn't possibly. The street was layered in about two and a half inches of water from the rain, which had no doubt swept the keys away. 

He was about to give up before he remembered one more thing that could unlock the trunk. Grinning madly, blood streaming down what remained of his face, Riley pointed the gun at the trunk and pulled the trigger... Nothing. He pulled again, this time harder. He gasped. _The safety?_ Feeling the gun, sure enough, the safety was on. But then how had he...? All logic swept away, and suddenly all he cared about was firing at the trunk. He pushed the safety off and, still not realizing that those inside would also be shot, Riley pulled the trigger and again...nothing. He frowned, and the last thought that ran through his head was of a very pretty girl with long, curly blonde hair. Red mink, spinning the jack... 

The Buick that crushed his life away, falling face first down upon him was vintage 1963. Of the police officers to die in this experience, Riley would be the first. Forty-one would follow in his lead, totaling the entire Sunnydale law enforcement squad save two. Those two were christened at birth Richard Swiss and Chimotza Rela, a Japanese intern. 

_Think about it..._

* * * * * 

Willow couldn't run much less drag herself very much further. Tara's dead weight on her was increasing dramatically every few seconds. Luckily, she didn't have to go much further. Two houses down, Xander was probably up with Anya, arguing over something or other. She hated herself for what she was about to do, but she had no other choice. This had to be done. 

A Bronco fell down to the earth on it's side about ten feet away. It carried such a force with it that she was blown off her feet, landing in a nearby ditch with the body landing a few feet down from. 

"FUCK!" She screamed, picking herself up and stumbling over to Tara. But no matter what she did, she couldn't summon up the strength to pick the other girl back up. Tired, wet and scared, Willow went for broke. 

"Ishtul, Goddess, let…let this being rise." 

Risking anybody seeing her, Willow asked the goddess to fly Tara along with her. She would've done it herself, but her physical and mental strength had already ebbed away, and she needed to reserve her magick for the spell she was to perform. She almost smiled when she saw Tara's body rise. 

Another two cars fell to the earth almost simultaneously on either side of the rain-filled death, blocking her in. She climbed up one side and the body followed her along the carred and burning path. 

........... 

When she opened the door the first things she heard were Xander and Anya. Sure enough, they were arguing. 

"I can't believe you did that!" 

"Oh, what? You tried to have me killed! I hardly even hit you!" 

Willow was shocked inwardly at what she was hearing from the living room, but outwardly she was too worn out to give any sort of expression. She moved past the kitchen towards the stairs with Tara's body floating behind. 

Reaching the stairs she opened the door underneath, walking down and pointing towards the couch as a place for Tara to land. She did so, one hand lolling off the side and her head being supported by an armrest. 

"Oh, what? You're packing?" 

"YES, I'm leaving you Xander!" 

"You know what, I was going to do the same to you so fine. Pack your stuff and get the hell out!" 

A large noise resounded from above. 

"Oh my god!" 

"What?" 

"Cars!" 

"What?!" 

"Cars, they're falling from the sky!" 

Willow giggled a little, then remembered why she was there and stopped. Kneeling before Tara, she began summoning every smallest bit of power she had. And waited... 

* * * * * 

Cordelia screamed as another car blew a hole in the road next to her, causing her to swerve the fallen metal and avoid the fiery explosion. Not sixty seconds ago she'd been thinking of what the hell she was going to do with her life since it had gone to hell in a handbag so quickly. Now the only thing on her mind was getting out of town alive. 

Unfortunately, once she reached the bridge she forced herself to stop. Someone was standing on the railings looking down at the stormy waters about fifty feet below. She tried to scream at him from inside her car, but even with the windows down the storm was too loud. Shaking in frustration, Cordelia unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the red convertible. 

"W-what are you doing?" 

Whoever the person was, he was very large and looked...strange. But through the darkness she couldn't make out much. He looked back at her and a red beam shined into her eyes. 

"Ending this nightmare." 

"…What?" 

"I can't be alive. Don't you see me?" His voice held an odd mechanical twang to it. He stepped off of the railing and jumped down to where she was. From the glare of the car headlights, she now saw him in perfect detail. "I'm a monster." 

Her voice was hoarse from shouting and she stopped breathing so hard, thankful that he had come down. She smiled sadly. "You don't look so bad to me." 

He stared back at her, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. He had very few facial expressions. 

"You are not lying..." More of a statement then a question, but she shook her head nonetheless. 

A small white buggy landed about six yards behind them, breaking their gaze. She looked back at him desperately. "Get in!" 

After what looked like a quick spout of hesitation he did so, opening her door as gently as possible and squeezing to fit himself inside. Meanwhile, Cordelia ran to the other side, jumping into the driver's seat and turning the key. The engine revved up and she floored the gas pedal. 

The bridge flew past in a haze of light as they neared the center of town. Once they had almost reached then end, suspension cables trembling around them, Cordelia looked over at him and smiled hopefully. "I- my name's Cordel-" 

Lightning struck. 

"I would speed up if I were you." 

"Wha-" She looked through the windshield, searching for whatever he saw. Suddenly another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and revealed to her what he'd seen. A tanker was heading straight for them, falling on it's side. "OH SHIT!" 

She swerved to avoid on oncoming car and pressed her foot down until the gas pedal would go no further. The red and gray tanker grew closer and closer until they barely skimmed underneath it as it hit. She could feel the back of her car leave the ground (followed shortly by the front) as the tanker exploded. Cordelia had never experienced anything like it before. 

A few seconds later they slammed back to the earth, the fire on the tires and back of her car quickly being doused out by their landing in a large puddle. The vehicle swerved, Cordy gritting her teeth as she pressed down on the gas pedal trying to regain control. Once that had been accomplished, she slowly began to ease back on the brakes. Behind them they could hear the bridge caving in on itself as the weight limit was finally pushed over the top. She sat breathlessly, not knowing what to say. 

"I'm Lawrence. I'm sorry if I frightened you back there." 

She shook her head. "I've seen worse...why were you going to do it?" 

"What kind of a life can I lead? Look at me, I'm not the most catching figure in the world." 

"There are other demons existing out there-" 

"Is that what I am? A demon?" 

She blushed furiously, realizing she'd insulted him. "I-I didn't mean it like that!" 

He sighed. "It's alright. I am what I am." 

"Look, all I was trying to say is that there are groups of beings that will except you. You just have to find them." 

He stared back at her and looked as though he was smiling after a while, but said nothing. "You look as though you aren't very happy yourself." 

"...I'm not. Everything just seems to be falling apart." 

"I'm listening." 

She hit the brakes suddenly; screeching to a halt in the rain (which took them a bit further on the slick road) as a RAV4 fell to the earth about eight yards ahead. Six more cars hit the street at the same time, causing the road to become an obstacle course as more fallen vehicles filled the streets. 

"You don't want to hear my story." 

"I've got nothing else to do…" 

She smiled and nodded, dodging another car and always moving forward. 

* * * * * 

"Where are you going now? You can't leave in this mess!" 

"Xander I'll be safer out there-" 

"Bullshit, what kind of logic is that?" 

Xander chased Anya threw the attic as she packed up a few more things. He wasn't stopping her yet, and while he really was tired of the relationship he still cared for her a lot, and was certainly not going to let her run outside. 

"Ah, found it!" She pulled out a long robe from a box, shoved it into her bag and started for the door to downstairs. Xander grabbed her arm, holding her back. 

"God, Anya wait. Just listen to me! The safest place to be is inside the-" 

A large truck cut off his remark as it burst through the roof and flooring of the attic only a few feet from them. It continued it's decent downwards until landing somewhere below in the basement. 

Both of them breathed deeply, staring at the hole the truck had created. 

"You ready to go outside yet?" 

He grabbed her arm again, this time pulling her with him. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here." 

As he ran down the stairs pulling Anya with him, a jeep blew through the wall behind them. The steps forced the jeep to arc at a forty-five degree angle, and it pulled plaster and wood with it due to the close quarters. Seeing this, Xander grabbed on Anya and rammed himself through the banister, crashing to the living room floor below as the jeep rushed past, slamming through the wall and disappearing again outside of the house. 

Xander sighed, having landed atop her, and smelled her hair for the briefest second before she forced him off. He stood and pulled her up with him. She shuffled uncomfortably as they made their way towards the door. "Thanks." 

He smiled and nodded, then pulled open the door, rushing out with her into the stormy night. 

* * * * * 

Giles threw the last shirt into his suitcase and zipped it up around all three edges as quickly as he could. After Ethan had left he'd gone back to the house and had moved the last boxes full of his materials into his car and had driven it to the airport. It would also be flown along with his things. Then he'd taken the bus back. He'd only left the day-to-day necessities for the suitcase packing. 

Hefting it up, he began breathing deeply; trying to keep calm despite the fact that heavy machinery was falling and blowing up all around him. His kitchen had already been obliterated. After a few more breaths he ran for the door, opening and closing it (quietly, for some reason he couldn't understand) before running out into the street as fast as he could go with the added weight of the case. 

Giles had hoped that Buffy would've met him at his house despite what they had planned, and he'd waited an extra five minutes just in case, but once he figured she wasn't going to show he'd decided it was too much of a risk to wait any longer. 

He stopped in his tracks. She was coming, he knew it. He'd probably leave and just miss her. He ran back to the house as the cars struck the earth near him, and in the distance he could hear hundreds more. Once at the door he pulled out a pen and a sticky pad from within his pocket, then quickly scribbled out a note to her before sticking it to the door, picking up the suitcase and running for dear life. 

Even if she didn't come, it made him feel all the better to have done that. 

* * * * * 

Darla cried out in frustration. Everyone she tried to stop was either moving by to fast or just plain would not stop. Once Angel had left her in the rain she tried to find him to no avail. She had a feeling she'd see him again, but it was crazy to stay within Sunnydale while this was going on. While running though the woods towards the main street she's seen that at the edge of town the cars weren't falling. This had filled her with hope that if she could just get picked up then she could get out before Sunnydale was completely destroyed. 

Twin lights speared through the darkness in front of her, causing Darla to gasp and run into the middle of the street, foregoing the thumb technique for the standing in the middle of the road one. The small Geo did stop, and within the driver honked and started to roll down his window. A bald man with glasses and puckered lips stuck his head out. 

"Get in, the doors unl-" 

The Porsche cut off anything else he might of said when it landed front-first onto his own, blowing Darla off her feet as she screamed. The man disappeared beneath the bent metal but it didn't take much of her imagination to consider what he looked like now, crushed inside the heap of burning destruction. As she was standing another car barreled into the bald man's, sending it (the totaled Porsche still sticking out) screaming towards her. She jumped as all three cars flew over either edge of the ravine, exploding below. 

Crying, Darla again stood up not noticing yet another car screeching to a halt to her left. A raven-haired girl called out to her. 

"Get in, the door's unlocked." 

She felt an odd sense of doom as she nodded, seeing a figure inside the passenger seat pointing for her to get in the back. She did so, quickly closing the door behind her. 

"Oh my god, thank you." 

The girl nodded as she sped back up, expertly weaving in between both the falling cars and the ones with actual drivers, also trying to get out. 

She suddenly realized the passenger was trying to hunker down and failing miserably. She was about to tap him in the shoulder and ask him what was wrong when she actually got a good look at the back of him and smiled curiously. He was a demon, but that was all she could tell. He looked almost like a new-age Frankenstein. 

She decided to ignore him for now and continued on trying to catch her breath as the entered the intersection near the end of town. The driver was forced to slow down for a moment to try and get past all of the other wrecks. After this they'd be home free. Suddenly the girl's face hit her as familiar. 

The car was picking up speed and they were at sixty again when she'd asked, almost at the end of the intersection. 

"Hey, don't I know y-" 

But she was unable to finish as they slammed into an oncoming car. 

* * * * * 

Joyce was screaming right along with the little boy as every vehicle hit the ground, debris flying all around and people screaming everywhere. They held on tight to each other as she tried her best to navigate through the wreckage. Once they got to where they were going she'd make a left towards the bus stop. She was completely aware that the actual fastest way out would be the exact opposite of the direction she was going, but it's not as if the cars would just stop falling once the reached the edge of town. 

After a little while they calmed down a bit, seeing as how she was doing pretty well at not getting hit. Also, except for those falling around her the road was fairly clear since no one was going in the direction she was. 

"T-there's something I want to tell you!" 

She was surprised to hear his voice beneath her. 

"What is it?" 

"I'm…I'm not human." 

Joyce nodded, not sure of what to make of this. 

"I can handle that." 

"Don't you want to know what I am?" 

"...Well, you're incredibly pale and you aren't breathing. I-I think I have a pretty good idea." 

Silence as she neared their destination. 

"Why haven't you tried to kill me yet?" 

"I don't really want to." 

She smiled and, on impulse kissed the top of his wet head. 

"Will you ever?" 

"I'm not sure." 

She nodded. "I can handle that too. I kind of need this." 

"...So do I." 

She laughed a little and hugged him closer to her. 

"Good. Well than once we get out of this I'll get some tinted windows." 

He smiled along with her. Neither was sure of what to think of this relationship or how it would turn out. But he didn't want to kill her and she wanted him around. It seemed as though it could've worked out, had it not been for the car going the wrong way that they slammed directly into. 

* * * * * 

Ethan smiled at her as she awoke, blinking her eyes a bit. 

"Thank god, you're alive." 

She groaned slightly and held a hand to her head. 

"What happened?" 

"I'm not sure. I'm guessing he knocked you out when you were unlocking the trunk. Thank you for trying that, by the way." 

She stared back at him. 

"Hmm, you're welcome. Why can I see you?" 

"Wha- oh, I've got my lighter on." 

"Turn it off, please." 

He paused for a moment, then nodded and clasped the Zippo shut. "Sorry, I didn't realize I looked that bad." 

She gave a tired laugh and placed her hand on his chest. "No-no, it was just hurting my eyes. Don't get me wrong, you look like you were just hit in the head with a brick a few dozen times-" 

Ethan laughed in spite of the pain he felt from his wounds. 

"-but with a little healing up you wouldn't be too bad to look at." 

He smiled in the darkness. "That's good to hear." 

"You're English." 

He paused, befuddled by the statement. "As are you." 

"No, it's just that I ran into someone today who doesn't go for our kind." 

Ethan chuckled again, more grimly this time. "You're not alone in that respect." 

"You sound spiteful at that. Jilted?" 

He nodded, feeling silly for doing so. "Yes." 

She leaned in closer. "Well, you're not the only one." 

They were quiet for a moment, listening to noises outside. "What's you're name?" 

"Ethan. Ethan Rayne." 

"I'm guessing that you have no idea what's going on outside, yes?" 

"Not the slightest." 

More silence. "My name's Olivia. And just wondering, what were you doing with the light on?" 

"...Watching you." 

She grinned. "Is that all?" 

"Yes, really. I didn't have much time or space to do anything else." 

She laughed and reached a hand up cupping his cheek, ignoring the small amounts of blood she felt there. Putting their heads together, he stopped her momentarily. 

"I lost some teeth when he attacked me...are you sure-" 

She cut him off, kissing him, tasting the blood from his lips. Not an ugly taste. Metallic, but not bad. She kissed him again, opening her mouth further and putting it atop his, which he willingly opened. The amount of blood inside his mouth did surprise her, but more than anything it turned her on further. As an explosion particularly near the car rocked it, he reached a hand down and ran it up the length of her thigh. 

She rubbed further against him and sighed as he touched her. 

"Mmf!" 

They broke apart breathing heavily. 

"What, what's the matter?" 

"Something on you- it bit me." 

She giggled a bit. "Turn your lighter on." 

He did so, revealing a small pool of blood on his forefinger. He also held a bright red rose, perfect in shape and form, completely unblemished. Ethan's brows furrowed curiously. 

"How the hell?" 

But Olivia knew it for what it was. "Ethan, how do you like it?" She asked quickly, nuzzling into him. 

"Uh, rough." He said in a joking voice, obviously not sure what she meant. 

"Good…" She smiled deviously, then used her hand to once again shutter the flame, throwing them back into darkness. 

........... 

Anyone who might've taken the time to stop and watch the patrol car parked at the edge of Brown Street and Elm would probably have been shocked to notice that it was quickly rocking back and forth. But of course, no one did. 

* * * * * 

"It's alright miss, really. You're going to be okay!" Parker yelled to the woman over the roar of the chopper, then watched as she and three others were whisked off into the flying machine, which took a second to get off the ground, then flew off beyond the street, dodging the falling cars in the sky. He stood there a moment longer; squinting with three other volunteers by his side holding their hands to their foreheads so the rain wouldn't get in their eyes. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey man, come on. We gotta long night ahead of us." 

He nodded to Jeffrey; his partner he'd met up with earlier today before he'd taken the Crisis Control van out to rescue Faith. Once he'd left the airport he'd been called directly to pick Jeffrey up and get over to the first accident scene. So far they'd been to five. Most of the people were already dead, but they had (with the help of other Sunnydale Crisis Volunteers) been able to help out some. 

They hopped back into the van, Parker in the back, closing the doors and Jeff in the front. Jeffrey started up the van as Parker set up in the back. The radio crackled to life, reporting that another chopper was down. Jeffrey sighed and got out his headset, pulling it over his ears. 

"Hey man, tell me when they call us again, right?" 

Parker nodded and pulled out his notebook, jotting down what had happened to him since picking Jeffrey up. But his mind was really still on Faith, imagining what she might look like without the jail-suit or the black leather he'd given her to change into at the airport. He doubted he'd ever know. But he would like to think that one day they'd meet again. 

........... 

"Hey, Jeff!" Parker reached over and flicked the other man's ear, dragging him out of the Eurhythmics. 

"What is it?" 

"Got a big one. Three streets over, 34 and Maple." 

"Next to the bus stop?" 

"Yeah." 

He nodded, turning a corner a bit too fast. "Let's boogie." 

* * * * * 

_Buffy,___

_ Just in case. Northwest and Maple._   
_ I'll be there. Not much time left._

She smiled as she pocketed the note. Giles' door and front wall looked to be the only thing left. Not just of his house, but of any of the houses. She picked her bag back up and cursed herself for not running faster. She'd really wanted to meet him at his house. Back in the street, she stopped for a moment to point out to herself where the bus stop would be. Suddenly her senses kicked in and she jumped about six feet to the left, then rolled as a minivan and a Cadillac blew into the ground like bombs. Sighing, she got up and started jogging again, this time a bit more wary of her surroundings. 

* * * * * 

"Where do we go from here?" 

"We should be safe where we are, let's just stay here for now." 

Xander and Anya lied in the filthy rain-filled ditch, their gazes locked upwards for any more cars falling their way. 

"No, I meant where do you and I go now? In our lives." 

He looked over at her before glancing back up. "I don't know. You're the only person I know that put out a hit on me and still left me caring about you." 

She smiled. "I-I do care about you Xander, I'm just tired of you. I want something new." 

He nodded. "I kinda figured that out. So instead of dump me you try and knock me off and take my money." 

"It really wasn't personal." 

He began to chuckle but quickly stopped. "Green one, you're side." They swam as quickly as they could towards the other side of the bank. The green Explorer splashed into the watery ditch sending a large wave over to them. 

........... 

"Xander, what time is it?" 

"Hang on… 11:43." 

"Xander, I'm late. I have to go." 

He nodded, helping to push her out of the ditch before climbing up himself. She looked around for a second before spotting her drenched bag and picking it up. Turning to him, she was unsure of what to do. He reached out and pulled her to him, embracing her as tightly as he could. Anya smiled. 

"I feel like one day I'll see you again." 

He nodded. "I feel that way too." 

She stepped back from him, staring at him a moment longer before turning around and running beyond his vision. Then a whooshing sound overcame him and after a loud boom, Xander Harris heard and saw only darkness. 

* * * * * 

"Hey man, there they are!" Parker shouted, pointing to the wreckage of a red convertible and a black Jeep. Unfortunately, by now the entire intersection was blocked by the rubble and debris left by many of the other cars. They'd have to get to the survivors (if there were any) by foot. 

"Okay, I'm stopping." Jeffrey pulled over and signaled base. Meanwhile Parker opened the back doors and pulled out a makeshift stretcher. They were only a volunteer service, and as that was they had no real means to do very much good other than getting people out of dire situations. If they needed IV's or other such necessities, they'd have to wait. 

"No good man, all of the choppers are being used." 

"Shit. Alright, any of the other units around?" 

"Closest is in a residential area, they'll be there awhile." 

Parker nodded, jumping out and signaling the other man to help him with the stretcher. 

"What's going on here?" Parker and Jeffrey looked up at the voice, watching as some guy ran up to them from out of the darkness. He was wearing a long jacket over some Hawaiian clothing. He was completely soaked, just like everything else around them. 

"We've gotta get to that wreck over there," Parker pointed to which one and the guy followed his finger, "Check for survivors." 

"How do you know there are any?" 

"Patrolling helicopters check out for movement. They send us, we help the people until the actual cavalry comes." 

He nodded. "Need any help?" 

"As much as we can get," Jeffrey stated as he held Parker get the stretcher out." 

"Okay, what do I do?" 

* * * * * 

Willow gasped as Tara came alive in her arms. Her eyes fluttered open and her pulse jumped up, almost scaring her with it's intensity. 

"W-Willow?" 

She laughed and cried at the same time, reaching down and pressing her lips to Tara's. Tara tried to catch her breath, more than a little surprised by the action, but was soon returning the favor. 

They were huddled in the corner of Xander's basement, which is where Willow had moved them after she'd grabbed Tara and jumped, narrowly missing the truck that had come crashing down onto the couch. Once in place again she'd waited for the spell to take it's mark. Then she'd felt Xander's soul being transferred and had been waiting for Tara to come back to hers, completing the process. One day she'd have to pay for what she'd done to Xander, unless he could somehow find his own way back, in which case everyone would be happy and none would be the wiser. 

And while that's what she hoped he could do, she wasn't of that much faith. 

"I'm sorry, Willow, I should of told you everything! From the start I knew I should've, but I was just so scared that you wouldn't want-" 

Willow kissed her again, loving the way her energy flowed throughout. It made Willow feel so...alive! She then pressed a finger to her lips to indicate silence. 

"I understand. It's all right. It was my fault for not seeing it in the first place." Tara shook her head and began to voice her disagreement as to who the fault should be laid upon when Willow placed one hand on the girl's waist and the other behind her head, effectively quieting her. 

"Tara, I only want to know one thing." 

Tara, almost in a trance and purring slightly from Willow's hand massaging her, nodded. "Anything…" 

"When you did that spell, who did you raise?" 

"A.D.A.M. I was going to curse him with a soul when I saw he already had one. He'll be gone by 11:50 tonight. Ethan needed him to cross paths with Buffy to keep her occupied while he had to meet some people." 

Willow was shocked. Her touch on Tara had cause the girl's words to flow abruptly, but that wasn't what she'd been so surprised by. 

"Ethan? Ethan Rayne?" 

Tara nodded again, writhing slightly for Willow to continue; her eyes closed. "He was a friend of my mothers. When she died he helped me out, flew me to America." 

Willow shook her head in confusion, removing her hands. "But I told you about Ethan. All the bad things he'd done." 

Tara opened her eyes, nodding sadly. "I know. I didn't want to tell you I knew him because I thought you may not trust me." 

She sat up then, gazing into Willow's eyes. "Willow, I would never ever put you or any of your friends in danger purposefully. I made sure that Ethan's intentions were good before I performed the spell." She choked up a bit then and reached out for her. "I love you Willow, I couldn't live without you." 

This time Willow let her make contact, Tara lightly running her hands through her hair and down her cheek. She nodded slowly. 

"I know. I love you too. I just...I don't want anymore secrets between us." 

Tara shook her head forcefully, tears running down her face. "I promise Willow, I'll never keep anything from you again." 

She nodded and smiled before beginning to cry again herself. She finally had her back. But Tara still looked a little timid. "What is it?" 

"So you…you still want to be with me?" 

Willow laughed and hugged her tightly. Tara cried harder in happiness and hugged her back, smelling her hair and running kisses down the length of her neck. 

A crash from elsewhere broke them out their embrace, and for the first time Tara noticed that the stairs were out. "Uh, Willow? Why is there a truck in Xander's basement?" 

"They're everywhere. Falling all around town, right out of the sky." 

"How are we suppose to get out of here?" 

Smiling, she lightly cupped Tara's cheek and turned it to the right and upwards, showing her the small windows at the top of Xander's basement. 

"Oh…" 

........... 

Willow pulled Tara out, having her wiggle a bit to finally free herself from inside the house. Once out Willow pulled her up, helping to brush her off as she continued relating what happened to her after the girl's death. 

"So you thought I had caused the cars?" 

Willow shook her head. "I wasn't sure. But there's still something I don't understand. You came into the dorm room without any harmful intent. Why was the board spinning?" 

"...Was it spinning before I got there?" 

"A little, yes. Then it just kept getting faster." 

Tara looked her in the eyes. "You were kind of angry at me." 

Willow nodded, her face going red as she kissed Tara on the forehead. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't know what I was doing, honestly; but I'm not a demon." 

Tara met her gaze again, obviously trying to convey something to her. "I think a part of you may be. Running in your blood stream. You may have a bit of me inside of you." 

Willow frowned. "How-…" Suddenly she looked up, finally having it dawn on her. "Oh…" 

"I hope you don't-" 

She shook her head quickly. "No-no, really. I kind of like it." 

Tara smiled. "Good…" 

Something else presented itself to Willow then. "Oh Tara! Your stutter; it's gone!" 

The other girl looked up, realizing that she was right. "C'mon, let's get to the bus stop. It looks like the storm is dying down a bit." 

"But I don't have any money. Not even a dime." 

Tara smiled mischievously. 

* * * * * 

Buffy entered the intersection, looking around to once again examine her position. 

* 

Lawrence and Darla were busy pulling an unconscious Cordelia out of her overturned Corvette when the dark figure entered the intersection. 

* 

Joyce was slowly coming back to reality as Colin struggled to unbuckle her seatbelt and pull her free. Her ankle was broken and the bone of her elbow was showing, bleeding in large amounts. The jeep, after being hit had turned on it's side. 

* 

Angel and Parker were breathing sighs of relief. The cars didn't seem to be falling down as much anymore, though every once in a while an explosion could be heard, often followed by screams, alarms and sirens. 

"This way, we can get to them through here!" Jeffrey shouted, pointing to an area in between two cars, light fires burning inside. 

They nodded and rolled the stretcher off in that direction. Angel didn't know what they were going to do if there was more than one survivor, because they only had one stretcher. Perhaps the two volunteers only used it as a temporary safety until the actual ambulance crew arrived. Then again, the hooks on the edges suggested to him that maybe it was used to carry the person up in a helicopter. In any case, he was sure a solution would present itself in one form or another. 

And best of all, helping these guys took his mind off of Buffy, if only for a small amount of time. 

* 

"I know what I'll do," said Darla in earnest, "I'll take him to Venezuela! I know he always wanted to go there...do you think that would work?" 

Lawrence shrugged; his red eye (no longer displaying a digital readout of the area surrounding him) was beginning to get on his nerves. Once daylight hit he was hoping that it would stop glowing. "He sounds as though he still loves another." 

She sighed, frustrated. "Yeah, but maybe, if I could just get him to stop thinking about her... he loved me once…" 

Lawrence kneeled down to Cordelia, examining the cut on her forehead. It wasn't that bad. She'd wake up with a serious headache, but not much more. He tried to smile, glad that she wasn't hurt badly. 

Suddenly his eye caught something to the left, shifting in the darkness beyond. 

* 

"Look, there are the survivors!" 

"Alright, you, Hawaii man. You go check those people by the Corvette. Parker, could you go over to the car on it's side? I'm gonna try and get contact with base, get a crew over here." 

Parker and Angel nodded at Jeffrey before splitting up in their separate directions. 

* 

"Look out!" Lawrence rushed over and pushed Darla out of the way as the blonde-haired girl appeared, jumping onto half a car that had exploded on impact. She stared at them in surprise, recognition hitting all three of their faces. Lawrence knew her from somewhere but he just couldn't place her. 

Darla knew. "Buffy…" She whispered backing away slightly. 

"A.D.A.M. and…Darla? What the hell is this?" 

The name struck Lawrence speechless, memories flooding back. He remembered what had happened to him after the operation. At least part of it anyway. It all came back in a flash and he didn't have time to fully understand and recuperate when she struck. 

Foregoing any sort of witty comments or threats, Buffy flipped off the car, landing directly in front of A.D.A.M., brandishing her axe. This was going to take awhile if she remembered correctly. 

Seeing Buffy wielding the axe in the air, swinging down towards his chest, Darla rushed her, jumping on her back. Not exactly shocked, Buffy let the axe fall and started bucking wildly to get the other woman off. 

Darla pulled her hair and hit her back, trying desperately to get Buffy to fall. Buffy stopped moving; amazed at what she was feeling. Was this really Darla? She wouldn't even leave bruises from the pain she was inflicting; though after one particularly rough tug Buffy did flip her off of her back. Angel had come back to earth; he had escaped hell because of love. Could Darla have done the same, but somehow have become human? 

Angel rammed into Darla, throwing her off her feet and bringing them both to the ground, dangerously close to one of the many fires raging in the streets. The flames licked at both of them, scaring Angel enough to back away and off Darla for a moment. Long enough for her to elbow him in the stomach then punch him in the face, as he lay stunned. 

Buffy shook her head. She was definitely human, as was Angel. They were fighting as though one single fist from Buffy would KO the whole thing. But this seemed more a lover's quarrel then anything else, so she let them be; making sure neither really hurt the other as she once again started towards A.D.A.M. 

* 

Cordelia shook her head a little, feeling woozy and lightheaded. The entire world was spinning, making her decide that lying down was the best decision for now. But as her vision came into focus she blinked a few times; someone was staring at her. _Lawrence…_

He opened his mouth to say something, but a blur rushed past her eyes and he was gone._ Gone, gone away, flying towards not, for every summer slut there is a…is a winter tw…_ Cordelia decided to close her eyes for just a little longer. The last thing she saw before falling back into sleep was what she thought might be Buffy, bringing an axe up and down repeatedly over a large form… 

* 

Parker pulled the pale child from the wreckage, trying not to take notice of how odd it looked. But why was the kid only covered in a rough-looking cloth and nothing else? Well, he reasoned, maybe she'd found him in the storm. That still didn't explain much, but Parker wasn't about to start asking questions. 

He took a deep breath and dipped his body inwards, inside of the car and towards the unconscious woman. Using his knees as leverage on the head of the passenger seat, Parker hooked his hands into the crook of her right arm, noticing in satisfaction that the kid had already unbuckled her. He yanked her arm up, lifting her out of the seat. Damn! She was heavier than he'd expected. He shifted a bit, stopping when he heard the sound of groaning metal. 

The car moved, making his innards feel like ice. If it rolled right now… he didn't have much time to think, as the car did just that. 

* 

Lawrence, tried to scream but couldn't. The girl was tearing him apart. But oddly, he hadn't felt any pain until this point. She was desperately hacking at his chest, completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't hitting back. He'd tried to many times, only in self-defense. But oddly enough, something held him from doing so. Some sort of power kept him from stopping her assault. 

He could feel his life force ebbing away. He wasn't sure if this was what he wanted, but it was what he was getting. As he died, Lawrence remembered something he had craved for at some point. He had wanted one of two things. Life…or non-existence. He had gotten life. It seemed like a cheat in his soul, like he'd only been given a limited amount of time to start again, but in a sense he was given what he'd hoped for. 

Maybe he could've made it. Maybe he could have worked out some sort of life where he would've been happy. His head fully of possibilities, Lawrence did know one thing for certain. This was no time to be thinking of maybes. But…maybe one day he'd be given another chance. Or maybe he'd simply fail to exist. And as Buffy finally grasped his power source, and as the time became 11:50, his link to the world faded out. 

And Lawrence knew his fate… 

* 

Buffy stood, brushing herself off. She hadn't expected him to disappear. This was all pushing her over the edge. She didn't know what the hell was going on! People she'd killed years ago were appearing before her now. She huffed and picked up her handbag; about to leave the intersection when her slayer sense made her take a stake out from underneath the flap of her bag. 

* 

Colin just couldn't resist. He was the Anointed One after all, destined to rid the world of the likes of Buffy Summers. He'd been surprised when the car had turned over, and had been stooping down to help the man when he'd caught sight of her. Hunched over something that quickly melted into nothing, it made him blink in confusion. 

At the moment forgetting his newfound maternal friend and the savior who'd pulled him out of the wreckage, Colin had jumped onto the now upturned bottom of the car and was watching the blonde girl. Taking the whooshing sound in his ears for some of internal signal he hopped off and took a running jump at Buffy Summers. 

* 

Buffy turned and almost yelped as she saw the figure flying at her through the night sky, but was even more surprised when the convertible smashed down onto him, probably smearing him into the earth. She stood there, stunned. _I guess he should've looked _"-before he leapt." She voiced rest of the thought, smiling. 

But as she turned around she heard the explosion of glass. Glancing back, her eyes widened. "How the hell?" 

He grinned at her, sliding out of the broken and flattened windshield, a large portion of his scalp now exposed. "I never did like the top down, but consider me a changed man." 

Then the six-year-old leapt onto her, teeth bared viciously. 

* 

"That's it! If you want to spend the rest of your life pitying yourself over some slutty bitch, BE MY GUEST!" 

Darla stared down at him. She'd won that fight, as was proven by the sight of her standing over him. But it wasn't a victory she was happy about. 

"But guess, asshole; I'm not sticking around here, waiting on you to get over it!" 

She moved back and allowed Angel to stumble up. His lip was bleeding, his Hawaiian shirt torn, jacket missing and hair ruffled. He looked at her for a moment, then reached out to touch her. 

"No!" She slapped his hand away, then his face. He stared at her, shocked. "You had your chance, now deal with the consequences." 

She turned on her heel then, limping slightly and still freaked from being inside a car that had flipped over; leaving him there. She wished she could say it felt good. She wished she could say that it was what she wanted to do. But wishes were for dreamers, and Darla was wide-awake, both feet on the ground. Until Angel realized what was going on and what wasn't going to happen, he wasn't worth the trouble of chasing. She'd let him come to her, if he ever did. 

Shocked and not sure of what was happening, Angel forgot about his surroundings and left in search of a very needed necessity. 

* 

Buffy threw a fake punch left then kicked out, landing a solid blow on Colin's chest. But it barely even fazed him as he grabbed for her other leg that was still on the ground. Having been taken by this once tonight she hopped back, dropping to her hands and knees and spun, hoping to sweep him down. 

He jumped though, anticipating her attack and landing and a blue Contra that was overturned. He'd realized why he'd been brought back to life. After The Slayer had closed Sunnydale's hellmouth someone must have pulled some strings to get him out. This was what he was meant to do. Kill the slayer. 

Buffy couldn't make sense of any of this. Darla a human, A.D.A.M. a ghost and a bad fighter at that, and the Anointed One, who had all but disappeared a few years ago. Some sort of convergence must've been caused when she'd closed the hellmouth. She wondered if that also had anything to do with the car rain. 

Buffy slid over to him and jumped adjacent his position, swing forth a palm against his jaw. He blocked it and head-butted her in the stomach, taking a bit of the wind out of her breath. When she bent forward he swung both arms over her head like a club bringing them down on the back of her skull. She fell forward off the car and to the street below with Colin jumping after. 

Taking him by surprise, Buffy lifted out the stake, rolled over when she landed and put it in the air, waiting for the kid to impale himself on it. He did so with a wet thunk, but Buffy's aim had been off slightly and as a result it sunk into the lower portion of his chest. Seeing this, Colin grinned and gnashed his teeth into soft side of her neck. She gasped, feeling the sensation of blood flowing rapidly out of her, and it took every ounce of strength she had to push him off of. 

He growled landing on his feet; his face still vamped out with her blood on his teeth. Buffy jumped up, righting herself, one hand on her neck and the other still holding the stake she'd pulled out from him. He laughed hollowly, kicking out and landing a good hit on her hand. The stake flew off, leaving Buffy surprised and backing up. 

"It's time, Slayer." He whispered; his normally pale skin flushed slightly from all of the blood. 

Before she could move he punched her twice in the face, then kicked up and locked his tiny thighs around her neck, causing her to gasp and fall back. Deciding that she was too big a risk to kill by feeding, The Anointed One picked up a shard of glass from off the pavement and forced it down at her face. She grabbed his wrists before he could cut anymore then her cheek and started pushing back, her strength failing her as it became a duel of who had the most energy remaining to direct the glass towards their opponent. Needless to say, if this continued much longer Buffy would lose. 

* 

Parker yelped in pain, turning over to give himself more room to extract the woman from the Jeep's metal grasp. He'd gotten more than a few cuts when the car had fallen over, and the one on his shoulder was giving him the most pain, bleeding freely. Once the kid had deserted them it had taken a second to get out, but the hardest part had been not breaking the ladies neck at her precarious position. 

"Uhn…" He almost jumped, surprised at her awakening. With a few more quick pulls he was rewarded with the ripping of cloth and the release of the vehicles hold on her. Once completely free of it he laid her on the ground and pushed away her hair. Awestruck, he examined her. She must have been in her early to mid forties, and she was truly beautiful. He smiled; glad he'd had the chance to help her out. 

"Hey, Parker!" He glanced up, seeing Jeffrey a few yards away, waving. He waved back in response, signaling that he'd gotten the woman out. Jeff gave a thumbs-up and started walking over with the stretcher when the whir of fast-moving blades overtook any of the other sounds in the night air. They both looked up to see what looked like three helicopters flying towards them. 

* 

A large floodlight shined directly in his eyes, breaking Colin's focus on his strength. Taking this opportunity Buffy hit the glass shard, breaking it into two halves, then slipped out from underneath the boy. He snarled and leapt towards her, but she dodged out of the way. Still holding the two halves of glass, Colin threw one at Buffy. Confused at this move, the slayer caught it deftly. But with her attention now off him, Colin jumped at Buffy, leaping from a car that had sunk a large hole into the ground, the edge of the last glass shard gleaming sharply in the light. 

* 

Parker suddenly realized that the third object was not a helicopter, as it was falling too fast and didn't have any lights on. He tried to signal for the lower of the two choppers to move, but of course he couldn't be seen that well. 

The large station wagon smashed into the fin of the 'copter, throwing it off balance and heading in a tail-dive straight for the ground. Jeffrey looked up at the explosion, then began running when he realized the car was head straight for them. He waved his hands quickly for Parker to move; his screams drowned out from the noise above. Parker grabbed the woman, still not conscious enough to move, and began dragging her to safety. 

The station wagon had been falling on a direct downward course when it had hit the helicopter's tail, and was now falling at more of an angle because of it. Jeffrey tried to jump out of the way before it landed but was too late. It smashed him down, smearing what remained of blood and bones along the ground as it raced towards Parker and the woman he was desperately lifting over his shoulder. He lunged out of the way as the wagon passed mere inches from them, crashing into what was left of her jeep, exploding in a ball of fire. 

Parker breathed deeply as he checked her pulse. Still going, still beating. 

* 

Buffy was blindsided by the jump, but for once Colin had misjudged his placing. He'd leave a long gash across her shoulder blades that would no doubt last awhile, and had ruined her shirt completely; but her neck was still unscathed, save for the two small holes he'd left on it. Colin slammed home into a wall of cars that had been made earlier, then stood up and caught his breath. 

A loud roar filled the air and Buffy rolled to the side, narrowly missing being run over by the falling helicopter. It continued on it's path, sparks flying along the pavement as it went straight into a bewildered Colin. The force blew the chopper up in a blaze, but surprisingly unaltered the wall of metal and rubber. The fire was so large that Buffy, who had by now regained her footing, couldn't see what had become of the Anointed One. 

Not one to leave loose ends, she approached the fallen metal bird. The heat of the flames washed over her, and she put up a hand to block them off slightly. Not that it did much good, but she could see a little clearer. It took her a moment to find him, but there he was. Fried to a crisp, howling silently as he detracted himself from the lower portion of his body, which had been pierced in the landing. The bodies of the pilot and someone else also burned, but she tried not to notice them too much as she watched him finally tear himself free and begin climbing up the scarred blue metal. 

Two burnt hands reached out, followed by a hairless ball of black and red tissue, two sunken and very white eyes in sharp contrast. She grimaced at the sight. She had to admit that he had persistence in completing his goals. Which made it all the more enjoyable waiting for him to reach a certain point. He did so, sticking his head up between two flaming propellers. Buffy wasted no time in reaching up and grabbing one of the steel, sharp rods in her hands and spinning it. She felt very little resistance as his head separated from the lower part of his neck, rolling down the metal and stopping at her feet just before turning into dust. 

She sighed, rubbing her neck and spotting her bag next to the convertible that had first taken out the kid. Buffy then examined one of the half-melted street signs, stating which direction she should go to get to the bus stop. She left the fiery, blood-filled intersection as quickly as she could. 

* * * * * 

Anya laughed when she saw him, jogging over to him and jumping uncharacteristically into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He gasped and chuckled before taking his mouth to hers, kissing her until she had to pull back for breath. Spike let her go back to the ground and kissed her again. 

"Everything ready, love?" 

She nodded. "Xander's done with, the demon I hired took him out." 

His eyes narrowed. "And that's it, you got the money?" 

Anya shook her head sadly, glancing up at him to see if he was buying it. "Only a little. Apparently, it doesn't go to me." 

"See, that's what I was trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen." 

"What was this surprise you called me about?" She asked, trying to change the subject. 

"Huh? Oh yeah, some unfriendly git kicked me at Willy's today, and I broke his neck when he laughed at me." 

Her eyes widened. "Someone kicked you?" 

"Yeah, for no reason." He scratched his head. "I don't remember it that well, but I fell of the stool and the next thing I know he's there laughing at me." 

She giggled nervously, punching him gently in the stomach. "Oh well, he probably mistook you for someone else. It could happen to anyone!" 

Spike doubled over from her punch, breathing heavily. "Ow!" 

"Oh god, I'm sorry! What's wrong!" 

He shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. I ran into the slayer today is all. Had it out with the little bitch." 

"Did you kill her?" 

"No, I decided I'd let her live a bit longer. You know, let the humiliation of being beaten sink in before I cinch the flame." 

She nodded in understanding, excited that he'd bought her story. "So, I did my part of the deal. Let's go kill your old girlfriend, what do you say?" 

"Dru?.... How much money you got?" 

She looked through her purse, counting the bills quickly. "Um, twenty, thirty, f-forty-five dollars!" 

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, we'll probably have to kill someone for some real cash, but it should at least get us out of this flaming shit-hole. Let's catch the bus." 

She nodded, kissing him and wrapping an arm around his neck. "Carry me?" 

"Sure pet." 

* * * * * 

Giles let out a breath of sadness as the bus turned the corner, coming up along what remained of Maple street as quickly as possible. He grinned then hopefully, watching as a figure came running out between a grouping of trees towards the stop. Another person followed that one, and finally two more, hand-in-hand came down the terrace at the edge of town. 

The bus came to a stop in front of him, opening it's doors in an electronic gasp. The driver inside looked down at him with slightly crazed eyes. "Rough night, eh?" 

Giles nodded. "I'm surprised you're even running the route." 

The driver shrugged. "Got nothing better to do." 

Giles frowned. The guy looked a little off his rocker, but if it meant deciding between never leaving Sunnydale or taking the possibility of a crazy driver, Giles would take the driver. 

His heart fell when he looked back to discover that the figure coming towards the bus had been Spike, with Anya not far behind. Once he got there, Spike nodded at him and made sure the driver stayed where he was. Anya reached up; a deep frown set on her face as she hit Spike on his shoulder. 

"I thought we were going to miss the ride!" 

"You didn't have to drop me!" 

Behind them he smiled (if sadly) to see that the other two were Willow and Tara. 

"Hi Giles." 

"Willow, Tara." 

As all but he boarded the bus, paying the fares, Giles wondered whether or not Buffy had even considered coming with him. She'd probably met up with Angel and had dumped Riley right off the bat. No, he didn't want to believe that. She meant too much to him. He hefted the suitcase up and boarded the bus, his heart fallen. For whatever reason and through whatever steps taken, she'd found something better than him. 

Or…was she even alive? He wasn't positive if he'd ever know for sure, or even if he wanted to. But the doors were closing behind him, and Buffy wasn't there… 

* * * * * 

Wesley pressed a hand to the side of his temple, trying desperately to overcome a monstrosity of a hangover. He'd woken up in the dumpster and had sneaked back into his hotel to pack up as quickly as possible. As it was he'd had to take out two men posing as bellhops, stuffing them in a neighboring man's apartment before weaseling his way back out and hot-wiring the black Volkswagen he was currently situated in. 

He still had a few days until Lewis was to take his final bow. Apparently someone had leaked out that he was after the businessman, which explained all the attention he'd been getting lately. But the worst part was that upon inspection of his own car, he'd found a bomb that looked like it had more European (possibly even German) markings on it; meaning that one or more of Brohiemer's men was out to get him. He'd have to confront the man about it, but for now he'd complete the job Brohiemer had hired him for. 

He just wished he knew who he could trust and who he couldn't. 

* 

Up above, high in the clouds of Mahjal's bright sky, a single object was emitted. By now many were aware of the frightening occurrences going on this very second in the America's. A single town being destroyed by hundreds of thousands of cars, trucks, vans, and even semi's and tankers; all falling from out of nowhere in the night sky. 

Very few would ever learn of this incident. A large van, once white but now black, it's back welded shut; fell from what seemed a normal, low-lying cloud. If any did learn of this, and if they knew of certain facts, such as who was in the Volkswagen at the time and who the previous owner of the van had been, they might've considered it a sick sort of poetic justice. 

But as fate would have it, none did nor ever would put two and two together. The cheese will often be expelled in parts, but rarely does it leave the system entirely...pieces may be found in plastic packaging, though none shall recieve the holy block. Or, if it's Swiss, holey.   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Okay, that's all for this part. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Look soon for the final part, aptly titled Cheese: An Experiment in Fate (Part 4- Epilogue). I'm planning on it being very short, just sort of a wrap-up of all the remaining stories. Until then, I think 'Whose Line' is on. Hurry, or else you'll miss it!   



	4. Epilogue

  
Title: Cheese: An Experiment in Fate

Author: Lyle Brown (LyleMHD)

Summary: You look liiiiiiike, you could use these. You're a girl/guy in neeeeeeed, of the pus cows sneeze. But can you…..Say-e-ave Cheese? C'mon and Say-e-ave Cheese. If you could Say-e-ave Cheese, from the flanks, of the mice, we suspect, they would eat all that we have. Hey! I wanted it to be a perfect ending at ten pages and it turned out to be seventeen. I'm sure there's a metaphor for life somewhere in this mess. Anyway, you're at the finish line; I can't believe it. You've grown so much since we began; I can see it in you. Gosh, if I don't swell with pride. Enjoy! Note that while no one is a main character, some do have bigger parts than others. Sorry, especially to all those Darla fans. I'm sure there are bunches of you. Somewhere. In small groups. Holding candles and plotting my death.

Time Period: Alternate Universe, few spoilers (all seasons)   
Disclaimer: I own nothing. What I'm doing with these characters is very, very wrong; I know. Sorry again.   
Rating: Hard R. Sex, murder, drugs, language, lotsa violence. It's a story for the whole family!

Feedback- I love it. If you want to give me a happy, just write to me at RedTower@myrealbox.com, or review it here once you've read it.   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Okay, well. We're all here. You, me, Lilly…Uncle Biff. Yes, yes sit down Biff, the end is nigh. And that goes for you too. Here it is, without further ado, the epilogue to Cheese: An Experiment in Fate.   


Cheese: An Experiment in Fate   
by Lyle Brown   
Part 4: Epilogue 

Here we go, one last time...   


_June 20th_

"Miss, excuse me." 

The stewardess, who had managed to calm down since they'd left the airport in one piece, rolled her empty cart to a stop. 

"Yes, we'll be serving food shortly-" 

The blond young man shook his head, pointing towards his dark-haired companion who appeared to have fallen fast asleep. "No, that isn't what I wanted. My lady friend here has been shivering a little, but our compartment doesn't seem to have any blankets. I was wondering…" 

She smiled sweetly. "No problem, I'll get her one now. Would you like one as well?" 

He shook his head again, waving a hand. "Oh no, sleeping and flying don't mix well with me." 

She nodded and walked off to get a blanket. Benton looked back at Faith, smiling as he did. They had talked non-stop until she had fallen asleep. He didn't know if he could trust her, but he certainly liked her. The main problem was that she seemed to be a bit timid, like a wild animal afraid of breaking free. He had been surprised to get the feeling that she was trying to stray from trouble and violence instead of trying to find it. He hoped that none of his enemies had made it onto the plane. He didn't want her to get tied up in any of his problems; especially ones that could get her killed. 

He heard footsteps approaching, breaking off his train of thought. "Here you go, a nice warm-" 

Faith started humming, loud enough to surprise the woman into silence. 

"W-what's she doing?" 

He shook his head, still smiling. "I have know idea…" He took the blanket from her, wrapping it around the sleeping form of Faith. But her humming continued to grow in volume. It was a tune he'd never heard. Before they could think of what to do, her mouth opened, and she began to sing. He grinned. This girl was a mystery he wouldn't mind taking the time to uncover… 

"Umm, sir. We really can't have that-" 

He waved his dismissively. "Leave her, she's not harming anything." 

Huffing, the woman stalked away. She'd probably spit in his coffee if they ever got around to serving it. For now though, he settled down next to the sleeping beauty and listened to the relaxing tone of her sultry voice as she sang in her sleep. 

* * * * * 

_"Planes are flying, everywhere_   
_Raining tales but no one cares_   
_Easy coming, easy gone"_

Cordelia awoke with the absence of sound, picking herself up off the ground. Dusting her clothes and face off, she felt dazed and confused. She couldn't quite remember much of what had happened to her over the last couple of hours. She wasn't even sure what time it was, and a check to her sooty wrist didn't help as her Rolex was cracked. Slowly walking in the debris-filled intersection, Cordelia searched for a way out between the maze of broken and destroyed automobiles. She vaguely remembered being frightened of something or other. 

She jumped a little as her cell phone rang. 

"H-hello", she murmured. 

"Hi, Cordy?" 

"Yes, who is this?" 

"Cordelia, you don't sound to good, are you alright?" 

"I…think so. Who-who is this?" 

"It's Bethany, Bethany Roberts… from the agency." 

Cordelia groaned. "Oh god, please don't tell me you've called to rub it in…" 

"Actually, I didn't. Our lead has fallen with the flu, and I was wondering if maybe you'd like another chance." 

She stopped walking, stunned. "You can't be serious." 

"I am. She just called- oh, yes? Oh, all right, I'll be right there. Listen Cordelia; I'm giving you three days to get your cute butt back in Los An. After that I'm calling our next fill-in, and trust me, you don't want her there instead of you. I wish I could stay and chat but I'm needed in a meeting." 

"O…okay." 

"Uh-huh, ASAP Cordy." _/click/_

"Right." 

If she weren't so tired, Cordelia would have been elated. But now she had three days with no car and very little money to get back to Los Angeles. How she was going to do that, she didn't know. In any case, she started walking a little faster. Then she smiled. _Cute butt?_

* * * * * 

_"Timid girls, hopeful boys_   
_Earnest lies, all this noise_   
_Not quite done, I'll move on"_

"Shh, listen! I think the storm has stopped." 

"Oh what does it matter, we're still locked in here." 

"No, no. I have an idea. C'mon, put your skirt back on." 

........... 

"Alright, now what?" 

"See if you can turn around a bit." 

"You mean like you are? Ethan, that looks more than a little uncomfortable." 

"I'll bet it does, just do it anyway." 

The patrol car shook slightly as Olivia turned, placing her feet against herself and the hood of trunk. 

"Okay, now on the count of three, I want you to kick with me, okay?" 

"Oh, you have got to be joking-" 

"Hey, it's better than rotting away in here. C'mon. 1…2…3!" 

They shot their feet up at the same time, connecting with the hood and making a very large noise, if not opening it altogether. 

"Okay, again." 

"This is ridiculous…" 

"Shut it. 1…2…3!" 

Again they kicked, and again it did not open. But this time they did hear an audible cracking sound. 

"Oh my god, Ethan I think it's working!" 

"Once more now." 

This time she didn't complain. 

"1…2…Now!" They lunged forward with renewed vigor, slamming into the trunk and being rewarded as it swung deftly open. Olivia laughed with joy and hugged Ethan before beginning to slip out. Something was obstructing the hood from moving very far, but it could open just enough for them to escape. 

Once out, Ethan surveyed their surroundings. It was incredible. Buildings, trees, other cars, even signs and mailboxes. Nothing looked as though it had survived. 

"What happened here?" 

"Oh god, Ethan look!" He turned and tried not to show the shock as he saw what had kept the hood from opening all the way. A smaller car had fallen directly on top of the one they had been trapped inside of. Had the cop been inside? 

Turning again, pulling at Olivia's hand to walk (or limp rather, as the bullet wound in his leg was getting worse) away with him, his question was answered. Olivia saw it as well, pressing her face into his shoulder in disgust. 

Not three feet from them, a car stood straight up, it's trunk in the air and its nose smashed into the ground. What remained of the cop was splattered around them. Ethan thought it might've been a Buick. Curiosity taking over, he dropped to his knees next to the body, leaving Olivia to wander and look at the destruction of what used to be Sunnydale. 

He picked up the gun the cop had used on him. For some reason the safety was on. He pocketed it, his own guns lost. 

"Olivia, let's get going." 

"Where are we headed?" 

"I have some business in India. I was thinking you might want to come along." 

She smiled and walked up to him, a fresh wind smelling of burnt rubber and flesh blowing her hair around. "I'd love to." 

He smiled back before limping along the rest of the distance between them. She put out an arm to support him. "Let's you and me find some unsuspecting driver and strip him of his ride, yes?" 

She giggled, holding him to her as they walk down the road. "Yes." 

Behind their retreating forms, a gust of wind swept inside of the half-opened trunk, carrying out with it the petals of the rose, blowing them off into every direction. 

* * * * * 

_"Tired that this life won't stop_   
_I have seen our blemished crop_   
_Only mine, frittered lawn"_

Willow rested her head against Tara's shoulder, listening to the bus rumbling along with them safely inside. Sighing, she wrapped her arm tighter around the other girl's waist and slid closer to her. 

Tara smiled as she played with Willow's hair, staring out the window at what remained of Sunnydale quickly fading in the distance. 

"So where do you want to go?" 

Tara shrugged, enjoying the friction of Willow's body against her own. 

"Where do _you_ want to go?" 

The redhead giggled. "I asked you first." 

Tara giggled back, turning from the window to look into Willow's eyes. The truth was that she didn't care where they went, as long as she was with her. But if she had to give an answer... 

"I hear Venice is nice this time of year." 

Willow grinned and touched foreheads with her. "I hear it's nice any time of year." 

"They have beautiful sunrises." 

"I hear that too." 

Tara closed her eyes, feeling the breath from Willow's mouth. "We…we could ride the gondolas." 

Willow nodded. "I think that's a good plan. Yea plan." 

"Yea." 

She breathed a little harder and caressed Tara's lips with her own. "Kiss me." 

Running her hand through Willow's hair Tara pressed her mouth against the other's, and kissed her. 

* * * * * 

_"Unexplained, the world plays wrong_   
_Seems to me it takes too long_   
_Please stop, my life I'll pawn"_

Spike had finished looking around. He knew this was the one he wanted. 

"I'll take it." 

The young geek selling it grinned, pushing his glasses a bit farther up his nose. 

"That's great, man. Trust me, you will love this baby. Only four hundred." 

Spike smiled at him. "For this piece of junk? That's illegal, I'm sure of it." 

The young man frowned. "What?" 

Before he could move, Spike advanced on him. "How about this. I take it off your hands for free." 

"H-hey man, what're you doing? I thought-" 

"And while I'm at it, how about I take some of the weight off your shoulders." 

The kid's eyes widened. "Jesus, just take the fuckin' thing!" 

He tried to move for the door of his garage (where he was selling it; Spike and Anya had seen it after getting off the bus) but tripped on a box full of old junk. Spike reached down and grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him to his feet and sinking his teeth into the geek's neck. 

"Aw, sh-shit!" 

The kid gasped and struggled for a few more seconds before giving up the fight, sinking down into Spike's arms. Once he was dry Spike let him go, his body falling to the floor as Spike took hold of the motorcycle and wheeled it outside where Anya was waiting. 

"Anything on him?" 

"Nah, his pockets were clean. Little dipshit didn't even have a wallet with him." 

He took the keys off the handle bar and stuck one in the ignition, turning it to hear the satisfying noise of the engine starting up between his legs. 

"Get on." 

"He didn't have any helmets?" 

"This is a temporary thing An'. We'll upgrade soon, but until then get on." 

She nodded, climbing on behind him, grinding her hips against him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "How long before we 'upgrade'?" 

He sighed. "Well, it can't be to long, seeing as how the sun'll be up in a few hours." 

"Oh, right." 

She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes as he picked up speed, the wind blowing through her hair. Spike smiled, enjoying the ride and the comfortable warmth Anya was providing. The only thing missing was a radio. Ah well, he ought not get used to it anyway. Damn things were dangerous, especially to those who needed shade in the light. 

Considering what he might do to Drusilla and what he'd find next while heading west, Spike rode off into the night with Anya falling fast asleep behind him. 

* * * * * 

_"Ridding us of all our pain_   
_Elemental problems gain_   
_Tension what? Question those"_

"You okay back there?" 

He nodded, giving a thumbs-up to the co-pilot. 

Turning back around, Parker sighed as he stared at the form beneath him. He could barely hear anything over the roar of the blades, but he was just satisfied with hearing her breath. Her arm was in a cast, as was her leg, and there were bandages covering her head and wrist. She'd need a bit of time to recuperate from all that had happened to her. He'd need a bit of time himself, with his shoulder bandaged and his back burned slightly from the explosion. 

After the chopper had landed he'd held them up for a few extra minutes so that he could search for the other survivors, but they had all disappeared. Even the kid who had been helping the woman was nowhere to be found. He'd regretted the decision, but he knew that the sooner they left, the better it was for her, so that's what they'd done. She'd woken up a bit once, right after they'd taken off, asking about Buffy. That had more than startled him, wondering how she knew her. But then she'd thanked him dazedly and gone back into a slumber. 

He wouldn't forget that. He felt an odd bond with her, like they had both survived the night together. He realized that this sort of one-sided relationship wasn't exactly wise to start out with, but she looked lonely. And he was lonely. The least they could do would be to spend time being lonely together. He smiled, brushing at a lock of hair on her forehead. He'd help her get back on her feet, help her to work things out. And maybe one day, she'd have the relationship go further. He could only hope. 

No matter what happened, Parker was just happy not to be alone. His days of thrill seeking weren't exactly over, be he didn't mind slowing down for awhile. Especially after the night he'd just had. 

* * * * * 

_"Ergo, the horrors we stage_   
_Nears us to the burning rage_   
_This is where I think it grows"_

Darla hated this. She didn't understand what had brought her back to life, and now she didn't even know if she wanted what she had. It was all so down heartening. She'd thought that Angel still had something in him for her, but he'd attacked her, nearly killed her! All she'd wanted was for him to understand what was going on, that she loved him, but he was so caught up in Buffy that he couldn't see anything else. She might've been harsh to him, but- 

Wait wait! Someone was actually stopping. She stood on the highway; her skirt torn and her face scratched up a bit since Angel had pushed her to the ground. She'd been walking slowly west with her thumb out for a good while now, but someone was finally stopping. 

As it pulled to a stop beside her she looked inside the window of the pickup. An obese, butch-looking woman stared back at her, a toothy grin on her face. Well, it was better than walking. She opened the door and hopped inside. 

"Where you headed, girlie?" 

Darla shrugged. "Wherever you're going, just as long as I get as far away from here as possible." 

The big woman laughed as she picked up speed again, billboards and trees passing by in a whir. Deep in thought, Darla wondered whether or not it would ever work out for Angel. He'd been hit hard all his life, and this seemed to have been the last straw. She could have been more understanding in her first approach... 

"You hear about what happened to Sunnydale?" 

"Yeah, I was there when it happened." 

"Really, good God! What was it like?" 

Her gaze still locked outside, Darla was pondering where she'd go from here. "A real eye-opener…" 

The fat woman laughed. "Ha, Red mink, spinning the jack!" 

Darla frowned, looking over at her in confusion. 

Her body was never found, though a few prisoners picking up trash for the state did find the blood-smeared ring she'd kept on her finger for so long… 

* 

Angel entered the deserted building, glancing at the destruction around him. About four or five bodies could be spotted straight off, but that wasn't what he was looking for. The cars had stopped falling for a while now, but this looked to be one of the last places it hit. The bodies of two vehicles were on either side of him, and a third had actually crashed through the building above down onto the bar. 

He could hear a steady drip coming from somewhere to his left. Following the noise, he hunkered down and slunk around the mangled bodies of customers, broken tables and burnt walls. His search ended when he accidentally bumped into a chair, knocking it backward onto one of the remaining four-legged tables, causing the bottle of alcohol that had been dripping to roll off the side, crashing below. 

"Oops." Angel was about to turn around when he spotted something he found much more enticing. The tap. Getting off his feet, he grabbed an empty, slightly chipped glass off of the table, walking towards the barrel and small plastic tap attached to it. Flicking it upwards, Angel poured out the foamy liquid, watching it fill and overflow as he waited. 

Once he was satisfied with the mess he'd made, Angel examined the glass. Alcohol, beer, booze. His ultimate nemesis, it was the entire reason his life had gone to shit in the first place, all those hundreds of years ago. He held his destruction before him in a small crack-lined glass. It was the reason he had been bitten, killed and cursed. So, in essence, if he had never picked up drinking, and if he led a good life, Angel would never have met Buffy. He simply would have died. But he was a somebody. Historians knew his name (_well, those who studied the arcane did_), people feared him. 

No, they feared Angelus. Angel, he was a nobody; some poor schmuck who'd paid his debt to society and had wound up with nothing. So the way he figured it, all he needed to revert to Angelus was one drink. Then something evil would find him, he'd get turned and Angelus would return once again. Then someone would curse him with a soul and he'd wind up with Buffy. Only this time he wouldn't give her up. 

So he drank. But the only thing he'd forgotten was that the hellmouth was closed. It didn't exist anymore. And the few vampires that did inhabit the earth were no longer in Sunnydale, or Los Angeles. They had been all but cleared out. 

* * * * * 

_"It takes us all, to see ourselves_   
_Oldest right where evil dwells_   
_Untold secrets no one knows"_

"Hello?" 

"Rupert, thank God. Where are you now?" 

"Hello Carl. I'm on my way to the airport." 

"Hey man, don't be so down. You survived. I tried calling earlier but my cell phone didn't work. Guess it was all that falling metal, ha!" 

"Right, what did you do while it was going on?" 

"Me, heh I was chitin' here at the 'port man. Strange they was just falling inside of Sunnydale. As it is the airport is flooded with people man, but I got your luggage loaded up real nice. Planes are leaving man, better make sure you're here in like, fifteen minutes." 

As the bus crested a hill, Giles caught sight of the large building, lights glowing sharply. Sure enough, a mass of people could be seen within the Plexiglas windows, looking out. 

"I'm practically there." 

"Cool man. I'll be waiting. At least until they call out my row." 

"Right. Oh, and Carl?" 

"Yeah?" 

"...Never mind. Don't worry about it. I'll see you soon." 

_/beep/_

Giles had been considering telling Carl to inform Marco that he'd changed his minds about the "entertainment" during the night, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Not this soon. He was sure he'd eventually get over Buffy, but for now he would still feel wrong sleeping with someone else. 

Giles rested his head on the window and watched the airport loom closer, mentally building himself up for the insanity and chaos he was sure would be resident within. 

* 

Buffy ran. She didn't know how fast or how long she'd been going for, she only knew that over two or three more hills stood her destination. Upon reaching the bus stop she'd found the place deserted, with Giles nowhere to be seen. The bus must've already come… 

So she'd started running. 

She had been a slayer once. In her body she still felt like she was. But she'd closed the Hellmouth; she'd saved the world, no new slayers were on their way. Didn't that mean that technically she was no longer a slayer? Didn't that mean that she no longer held any superhuman powers or strengths? 

He breath faltered for a moment and she almost stumbled, her bag swinging crazily on her arm. Regaining her balance, she tried to stop asking herself such questions. She'd make it. She wouldn't, couldn't stop. Her happiness depended on it. She hated herself for hoping to think that Giles' happiness depended on it. 

And at certain points in a being's existence, even a normal human's, stress and traumatic experiences can cause extraordinary things to happen within. Such as lifting a car off a loved one, or surviving a brutal attack...or running, very, very fast. 

Buffy's feet blurred as she ran, picking up speed and finally breaking the boundary Sunnydale had set upon her. 

She couldn't see the bus. She didn't know what time it was. All she knew was the brisk air whipping at her, and the weightlessness she felt. She didn't know if she'd make it on time. But she'd be damned if she left it up to fate, to the toss of a coin. 

If hope was all she had left, hope was what she'd use. 

And so it goes… Buffy hoped. 

_"Scream this from your heart, it goes…"_   


_2 days later… June 22nd_

* * * * * 

Wesley awoke to a sharp feeling of pain throughout his body. His cell phone was ringing in the pitch darkness of wherever he was. Twisting and striving to ignore the screaming muscles in his back, Wesley picked out the small square block from his coat and opened the flap, not noticing that he was spreading blood over the Talk button as he pressed it. 

"H-hello?" 

"Wes? Where the fuck are you?" 

"I'm not sure..." 

"What?" 

"It's nothing to worry about. Darien, what day is it?" 

"You okay? You don't sound to good. Did you run into some of Brohiemer's men already?" 

"No. Wait, why would Brohiemer send men to-" 

"C'mon Pryce, don't fuck with me, man. You didn't take the car they put a bomb in-" 

"How did you know about that?!" 

"Relax, that ain't my style. Besides, I'm not gonna do you in unless I got a damn good reason, and as of now I don't. I heard from Brohiemer that you didn't take the car with the bomb he'd had his men put in. He knew that if you were any good you'd get to the plaza outside Mahjal and finish Lewis off, so he figured that by getting you to leave you're car at the hotel near the bodies of the men you took out he'd set you up for the police. And apparently you made a scene in a bar the night before that didn't help much either." 

"Yes, what about the taxi?" 

"…Sorry man, Bo didn't tell me about sending any taxis after you." 

"How _do_ you know all of that Darien?" 

"…When Brohiemer heard that Lewis had disappeared and you weren't in contact he offered me the job of seeing to it you kept silent, one way or another." 

"What did you tell him?" 

"I didn't. Some Israeli special forces broke into the place and I lost my connection with him. I'm on my way out of the country right now. I was thinking I might run into ya', thought maybe if you'd had the smarts to leave Lewis alive for now you'd have the same sense to get the fuck out." 

"Right, well did I ever mention I wasn't that smart, just incredibly lucky?" 

"Heh-heh. Tell me about it. Listen, word has it Lewis is tied up right now with some Witness Protection Agency and trying to wait until this shit dies down. Thing is man, he's got a son that's also on the lam. Kid's name is Brendan or Benson; some shit like that. It'd be good money to get the kid, eh?" 

Wesley's eyes widened as he huffed and pulled himself from a busted hole in his trashed Volks. Small shafts of light spilled through under and around slats in a large door about twenty feet to his left. But that wasn't enough to tell him anything about where he was, or to give him any bearings of his surroundings other than that the floor was made of cement, which he could easily feel. 

"So what do you say, you wanna go after the kid?" 

"Y…yeah, I think we can work that out. I'll...I'll need some time to see my way out of this situation I'm in, but how's about getting together in a week." 

"Right. You positive you got that under control man, you sound pretty bad." 

"I'll be alright. Where can I find you?" 

"I can't say yet. I'm thinking of Chelsea, I've got some safeties there but I don't know what we're up against Israeli-wise." 

"I understand." Wesley was about to thank Darien for the call when something moved in the darkness near the big metal door. He heard the creak of a door desperately seeking oil and the shifting of what might have been leather. At closer inspection, Wesley could see two pairs of feet now partially obstructing the light from the big door. 

"...Listen Darien." 

This sound of a whip cracking made him jump and nearly drop his cell phone. 

"I-I'll have to call you back!" 

A slight whooshing sound started up as he heard the beep of his phone disconnecting, his eyes locked on the two sets of feet. 

Suddenly a click resounded throughout the room and a dim red light flooded down. Almost as though his vision had just been washed in blood. He identified the whooshing sound as a large fan nearby. But what truly captured his attention were the two menacing people staring back at him. 

Decked up in full dominatrix gear, a pretty black woman and an equally handsome white man both held torture devices in their hands. The woman held the whip and the man wielded a ball and chain. The uniforms they wore had holes cut out for their genitals and the woman's breasts. He was betting that if they'd turned their backs on him they'd have holes in the bottom as well. But they did not turn. Without a word they advanced on him. 

"Oh dear lord…" 

Wesley began planning his escape, and though one did not immediately seem evident, his luck had never run black for long.   


* * * * * * * * * * * * 

And that, my pupils, is the end of what you need to know. I believe I've proven that the slices of cheese are thought of as individual when peeked at in shredded tones, but together they can be truly be viewed as the intertwining tales of fate they are, such as the Dark Slayer being saved by a young man who wound up with the mother of the girl he had a one night stand with years ago. The girl whose friend killed two previous loves in order to save her last, hiring a man who would one day soon begin hunting the son of a very powerful businessman. The businessman whose son was now in cahoots with the Dark Slayer herself. Eventually, all will learn that the slices of cheese can be seen as the outcome of life itself. Does the cheese not grow mold even if one runs fast holding it up in the air? In short, these cheddar slices each portray a different story, no matter how alike they may seem at first. One's end is another's beginning; one's Blue is another's Swiss. But at the end, you simply must remember that there is no running from it, there is no changing the outcome and there is no stopping time. The cheese cannot protect you, for your decisions have already been decided, your steps have already been mapped, and your life is on strings that are cut at a pre-determined destination. It's the absence of coincidence, the truth of fate. That is the true power... the true power of Cheese. 

THE END   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Mr. Harris… Mr. Harris?" 

Xander groaned, a very strong pain boring into the back of his skull. 

"Mr. Harris!" 

_Yes, that's my name, please use it as much as possible in the next-_

"Yes Mr. Harris that's all fine and dandy but we have much more pressing issues at hand that if you'll follow me I'm sure we can attend a meeting on time so you can be presented with them." 

Xander, confused, opened his eyes. Nothing but whiteness surrounded him. 

_Could you run that by me one more time?_

"Unfortunately not as I'm afraid we really are pressed for-" 

_Dude, slow down. I've had orgasms that lasted longer… And I can't believe I just said that._

"You didn't." 

_What? Then how-_

"You aren't speaking, you're thinking. I can hear your thoughts." 

_Nice. That's neat, really. Where am I?_

"Yes that will all become apparent if you would simply follow me-" 

Xander stood up, feeling another presence. He stumbled a bit. How had this happened? 

"Ah, very good. Now we're making progress." 

_Right, just give me a moment would ya?_

"No, I can't. A lot of people have died and you must-" 

Xander examined the tall dark man next to him. 

_Do I know you?_

The man shook his head in frustration. "You know, it took your friend a lot less time to catch on. I'm not sure how we're supposed to put our faith in you-" 

Xander straightened his back, cringing in pain but the insult taking precedence. _Fine, let's get going. Where to chief?_

The man smiled. "All right." 

Xander frowned. _Wait, my friend? What friend?_

Around the frustrated sigh Xander heard a familiar name. 

_Oz?!_   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________ 

_AFTERWORD_   


Well, unless I'm mistaken that's all she wrote. Or rather, all he wrote. All I wrote. Whatever. 

This story came about when I was listening (as I am now) to my sister's Soundtrack of Paul Thomas Anderson's _Magnolia._ You may or may not have guessed that as I have put cheese-related parodies of four of Aimee Mann's songs in each intro. One for each intro I mean. Anyway, I was listening to the CD as I was sitting at my computer and thinking about some different ideas I had for BTVS fan-fiction. Then my mind drifted to _Magnolia_, as I had only seen the film about a week previously for the first time. While Magnolia (I'm going to stop putting it in italics now cause it's a bitch to remember) is an extremely entertaining film, and is produced and filmed to beautiful standards, it's directed as though it's a sweeping epic, and it's written to be one of the most pretentious films I have ever seen. 

I mean, c'mon. What the fuck was up with the frogs falling from the sky. It was actually raining frogs at one point. In the words of my mother, "look at us, we're artsy. We've got raining frogs." And that's basically what it was trying to be. Artsy. Not to say that I didn't almost cry when I was watching William H. Macey's character proclaim "I have all of this love to give!" But he didn't know who to give it to. And of course the cop, the best character in the movie. This guy was the only really religious one in the film, which is odd that I liked him so much cause I usually don't take to overly-religious people that well. But yeah, he was a great character. Then their was Tom Cruise as a sex-oriented motivational speaker yelling, "Respect the cock!" See? Pretentious. 

So I started to think; hey, why don't I use Buffy to make fun of Magnolia. I could make a parody and have all sorts of stupid stuff happen. I originally started it as an all-out parody with Buffy in Cruise's role yelling such things as "Respect the bitchy, whiny, slutty cunt!" and "Riley, you bastard! Can't you see that I've loved Giles before I even saw him?" And I had Willow constantly taking care of Oz and Tara in the pill-driving gold-digging second wife(with a guilty conscience)'s role. 

But shortly thereafter I realized I'd have a lot more fun writing a satire, which would still allow me to keep some of the more outrageous plot twists (such as Willow hiring someone to kill Oz so she could get over him, Buffy and Giles getting together, Joyce and the Anointed finding relief in each other and Wesley's becoming a hit-man). This way I could torture and maim characters to the fullest extent and get away with it because I'll say I'm doing something poignant and touching. But it would also help me to set rules for myself, so as to keep me from falling to the temptation of having Jennifer Love show up and cut out Buffy's hair in the night, or having Dan Akroyd and Kim Basinger guest star as Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg. 

So I started forming a serious if out-there plot, featuring as many characters from the series as I could fit in. Then, once I had twenty of them, I put them in various stages of their lives, giving some of them large stories (Tara/Willow, Riley, Giles and Buffy) and some of them short stories (Darla, Anya/Spike and The Anointed One). I figured that as long as I changed or showed a difference in each of them, I'd have accomplished my goal of making it utterly ostentatious. The one character I really kept from the parody was Riley as a cop. I'd originally intended to have Buffy dump him for losing his gun when getting in the fight with Tara, but once it turned serious I had to lose the gun concept. 

Speaking of Riley, I'm not exactly sure why I took out such harsh endings for the two Buffy-men. I had known from the beginning that neither of them would wind up with Buffy, but I hadn't figured that I'd be so hard on them. It's almost as if they were innocent bystanders that I went out of my way to gun down. But once I had decided their fates I thought it would be easy, since they're both standing in they way of The Watcher and his Slayer. Once again that isn't the way it happened. After I killed Riley I immediately had to go back to Willow and revel in knowing that every word I typed would pull her closer to bringing Tara back to life. And after I gave Angel the ending I did I stopped writing for a while. I got the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that you do when you shoot the baby wolves in Metal Gear Solid. There's a sick fascination with it until you actually do it, and then the fascination leaves and you just feel sick. 

But that's the way it had to be. The only ending I was really unsure of when I was writing the overview was Cordelia's. How would I end her's since she had all of these conflicting emotions? I eventually decided to give her back her job, but to put her in a precarious position as to how she'd get there. I wanted to piss people off with all the confusing and open-ended story lines, just like Magnolia did. I wanted to show the characters in the peaks of happiness and the lowest depths of depravity. And most of all I wanted to make it horribly pompous and egotistic. If you'll look a bit closer at the poem you might see what I mean. That reminds me. You may have asked while reading this part, "Why is Faith singing?" There was a scene in Magnolia that I actually liked despite it's arrogance in which every character sang a bit of Aimee Mann's "Wise Up". That's why I had Faith singing a poem I wrote to end each story line. The title itself just oozes haughtiness, doesn't it? Using a food as a sign of life. A story contained in each slice. But the double meaning is that it is what it says it is. Cheesy. It also allowed me to give reference and perhaps create a better understanding of who that guy with the cheese really was. And I think you already know why I had the cars falling. I've always wanted to do that… 

Finally, there's the case of what I'm going to do next. I can't really say. I might move on to a slasher/time-traveling Roswell fic I've been musing over for a few months. Or I might finish the two other BTVS stories I started awhile back, _9/10_ and _Five by Eighteen_. But right now I'm seriously pissed at Joss and his crew. Remember the Dracula from that awful season premiere? He has his own movie that premieres tonight on USA. Dracula: The True Story or some trash like that. In other words, the season premiere of Buffy was basically one big advertisement for that movie. I've been a faithful fan for five friggin' seasons, since the very beginning. I just can't believe they sold out like that. In any case, if they pull that shit again they can count themselves one fan down. But to end this afterward on a happy note, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. Maybe I'll write about Charlie Brown next… Or maybe I'll write a story about what happens to Wesley and Darien once they try to capture Benton and the strange girl he travels with. Perhaps you'll find out what happened to Xander and if he succeeded in defeating the Red Mink. Only time and how much schoolwork I have will tell… 

Lyle Brown   
October 31, 2000 Ft. Lauderdale, Florida   
_______________________________________________________________________________________________   
_November 09, 2000_   
A special note and thanks goes to **Saint** at Fanfiction.net who has reviewed the first two parts (giving me probably the nicest review I've ever recieved) and as a result spurred me on to finish the rest faster than I might have without his praise. He also made me aware of an error in my writing. As this is satire, many of the characters do things they normally wouldn't, but I do admit that I forgot to put into the story when I was planning it out that Willow (as Mandy) told Wesley (as Darien) to use a silver bullet when taking out Oz. Thanks again Saint. 


End file.
